Smoke and Mirrors
by Narelena
Summary: A cunning new foe emerges, endangering Narnia and the Pevensie siblings. When Peter is targeted, the Kings and Queens seek to unlock the mystery of the threat in time to save what is precious. *Final Chapter Added*
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are not mine. No infringement intended upon the property of C.S. Lewis, Disney, Walden Media, or anyone else involved.

Author's Note: All mistakes are that of the author. Thank you to all who reviewed my last story.

Summary: A cunning new foe emerges, endangering Narnia and the Pevensie siblings. When Peter is targeted, the Kings and Queens seek to unlock the mystery of the threat in time to save what is precious.

—oo0O0oo—

Chapter 1, Smoke and Mirrors

Dust from the packed earthen floor danced in the growing morning light. Beyond the training salle, birds welcomed the new day, and the sounds of Cair Paravel awakening could be heard. Peter was oblivious to all but the burning in his shoulder and the worn leather chafing his palm.

"Keep your blade up," barked Algaron, Chief Armsmaster and Peter's personal torturer for the morning.

Peter renewed his grip on the practice sword and gritted his teeth as he continued to hold the parry position above his head. Suddenly, the pressure from the Master's blade pushing down on his was released, and Peter barely had time to react to the new threat to his flank. A hasty step backwards gave him time to parry, but left him unbalanced. A sudden kick to his knee sent him crashing to the ground. Again.

"You must keep your balance at all times. Control your body, then you can control your blade. Get up and correct it."

Peter rolled to his feet, ignoring his body's protest, and assumed a guard stance. _Just do it properly_, Peter thought to himself, _and I will not spend all my time on the ground_.

Twisting his sword to block a blow meant to sever his head from his shoulders, the blades met with a clang of steel. Retreating with the next parry adequately defended his side. The armsmaster pressed Peter back; the boy danced out of distance of the horizontal cut to his abdomen and blocked an attack to his head. _Back where we were_, Peter thought. Trickling moisture between his shoulder blades itched under the padded shirt he was wearing, distracting Peter momentarily.

Ompff.

Peter fell to his knees as the oxygen was driven from his body in a violent rush.

"What did you do wrong?" That incessant voice could not be denied. Darn.

"I became distracted," Peter wheezed, "and you so kindly pointed it out with a fist to my gut."

Algaron's face twisted into a parody of a smile. "At least you have fight in you, if nothing else. Control, Peter, you must control yourself before all else. Until that happens, you have lost to your opponent before you have even begun."

Peter nodded; it was not the first time Algaron had told him that. Taken the offered hand, Peter got to his feet and considered his teacher. No one knew what type of creature Algaron was, and the Master was notoriously closed mouth on that subject. He was in Aslan's favor, however, and that was good enough for Narnians. Taller than Peter by both head and shoulders, he superficially resembled a man with two arms and two legs. His face was severe, with a pointed nose that had been broken too many times in the past, framed by long dark hair that was forever trying to escape the leather throng that bound it.

It was not his appearance, however, that earned him his current position. It was his proficiency with arms, especially his favored three-prong spear, and unnatural speed. The loss of one eye forced him to accept his current station. Rumor had it he lost his eye in the early resistance to the Witch, a stray arrow or perhaps a Vulture. Regardless, Algaron was absent from the battlefield these days and presided over the training salle of Cair Paravel as king and emperor to his students.

Even when said student _was_ the High King.

Peter forced his wandering thoughts back to Algaron. From this angle, Peter could see the single nostril at the end of the Master's sharp nose. _Earthman of some sort_, Peter mused absently.

"Peter! For the love of Aslan, boy, pay attention. It is a wonder you don't slice off your own ear." Algaron narrowed his eye at the boy in front of him. "What is on your mind that has so captured your concentration?"

"Nothing, Master Algaron."

"For three mornings you have given me this excuse. Am I to believe that you truly have nothing betwixt your ears, and that is the cause of your poor performance?"

Peter studied the tops of his dusty boots, considering how much to tell his teacher.

"I am finding it difficult to clear my head of thoughts in order to focus on training," Peter allowed eventually. The Master waited patiently for him to elaborate, but Peter was silent.

"Perhaps you are feeling overwhelmed?" Algaron offered finally. Peter shrugged, as mute on the subject as he had been all week. "Is this a human thing?"

Peter gave a half-smile at the unexpected teasing of his teacher.

"Maybe it is a Peter thing?"

The smiled slipped off his face. It did not go unnoticed by Algaron. Realizing he would get nothing from Peter, Algaron lifted his blade into a salute, ending the session. Peter returned the gesture, exiting the salle as soon as the practice equipment was stored and studiously ignoring the worried gaze of Master Algaron.

—oo0O0oo—

The sun was fully above the horizon by the time Peter reached the beach. Because it was a Blue Day, there were no general petitions to be heard, and Peter had two free marks before he was required to be the High King. Gold Days were for petitions and Red Days for special sessions. Simple, but necessary, the distinctions prevented the Royal Court from being inundated by appeals, especially in the early days of the new rule.

With the summer solstice less than a month away, the Pevensie siblings had not long been ruling Narnia and were quickly finding their new positions required a bit more than sitting in four thrones. Without a true ruler for so long, Narnia had no foundation for a ruling structure. Rediscovering laws and traditions, establishing a system of governing and dealing with renegades still loyal to the White Witch offered the royal siblings a true trial by fire. The Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve were learning, but it was a steep curve.

_It's not as though I'm not tired enough to sleep properly_, Peter thought as he set off at a jog along the water's edge. _Between the demands for a standard system of barter, the demands for roads and equally vehement protests against roads, the state of the army and planning for any possible natural disaster, an hour of council gives me more than enough reason to put my head down and sleep_. _So what is it that bothers me into such a distracted state of mind that I can't find restful sleep? _

Peter settled into a rhythm as he ran, the shifting of the sand beneath his feet giving his already weary body something to focus on while his thoughts raced. He ran every Blue Day, quickly realizing that privacy was a luxury to be hoarded. For three nights now he had slept, only to wake more tired than before with the fringes of dreams taunting him. Something he should remember, something important, but something that remained illusive.

_We're dealing with the most critical issues and trying to set precedents for future occurrences; there isn't anything that has changed in the last few days…perhaps that's my problem: now there's time to take a breath instead of just being reactionary, and I cannot remember what that's like. _Peter mentally shook his head and allowed himself to sink deeper into the movement of his body. The sound of the waves crashing filled his ears, and he cleared his mind to allow the sound of Narnia to fill his being. Gulls screamed overhead and salt from the ocean clung to his skin; the High King let himself be filled with the music that seemed to come from Narnia itself. The cliffs at the bend in the beach grew closer, and Peter felt a note of disharmony in the Narnian song. With a sudden, inexplicable feeling of _wrongness_ Peter forced himself back to present in time to see a flash of fur and the ivory of teeth bared.

Without further warning, a body collided with his, knocking him backwards. His own body reacted to the threat, twisting away and using the foe's momentum to spin him around. With a sudden clarity he only experienced during battle, Peter brought a forearm against the creature's neck as he rolled and groped for the dagger in his boot with his free arm. Hind legs scrambled to find purchase against his legs. _Thank Aslan for training leathers,_ a detached portion of Peter's brain noted. A snap of jaws and a streak of fire on his shoulder distracted Peter from trying to find the dagger long enough to aim a punch to the side of the creature—a wolf, judging from the size and fur. Another rapid punch in the same spot and an involuntary noise from the assailant told Peter he'd struck a soft spot. Peter went for his boot and, with a colorful word to whoever made the boot sheath so tight, retrieved the dagger. As Peter brought the weapon up to stab the wolf, the heavier creature dug his nails into the boy's side and flipped him over, effectively pinning the king in the wet sand.

"Death to the unlucky king," the wolf growled, lowering his snout threateningly toward Peter's face.

Peter struggled beneath the wolf, thoughts racing through his head as he considered his options. Before he could make a move (or have his throat ripped out, the detached part of his brain traitorously suggested), a horn blasted in the distance. Using the distraction, Peter freed the hand with the dagger and managed to graze the wolf, just as an incredible wave slammed into both combatants.

The weight of the wolf lifted from his chest, and Peter inhaled gratefully, only to choke on salt water and sand. The water withdrew unnaturally fast; rolling onto his side, Peter had enough time to realize the ground was shaking before he was unceremoniously yanked into a sitting position. He could hear yelling and military orders being issued, as well as his own name, but the roaring in ears made it seem very far away. Trying to wipe the salt water from his eyes only succeeded in getting more sand in them. Frustrated Peter tried to speak, which only resulted in more coughing and someone banging on his back. The waning adrenalin making his thoughts jumbled, the High King couldn't help but think this had to be the most undignified position he had been in since assuming the throne.

"Peter!" The persistent voice could not be ignored for much longer.

"Ed," Peter croaked. "Knock it off."

The pounding on his back ceased and then a cloth was wiping his face. Breathing under control, Peter squinted into the concerned face of his brother.

"I can do it." Peter snatched the cloth. Exasperation chased fear across Edmund's face, and the younger king sat back on his heels to watch his older brother. But the aftereffects of combat had seized the High King; hands started to shake, and fire erupted along his torso.

"Whatever you say, Pete," Edmund commented dryly.

"Your Majesties," Oreius, Commanding General of the Narnian Army, was making his way toward them. The boys looked up toward the enormous centaur, grateful when he was close enough to cast a shadow over the brothers. "The assailant has fled; I sent a squadron after him. King Peter, how do you fare?"

Peter half-smiled at Oreius's protocol-perfect inquiry. _It probably galled him to have to inquire, rather than demand to know what happened_.

Edmund had already cataloged his brother's injuries and was pleased to see a Healer in blue making her way down the beach. Answering for his brother, "King Peter needs a Healer's ministrations immediately. However, we also need to know what happened."

Peter sighed at the inevitability of being fussed over, but was willing to admit having a bit of willowbark to dim the pain wouldn't be entirely terrible.

"I was running. Then I was attacked. We fought. You came." Peter gave a one-shouldered shrug. Twisting around to the water, "Thank you for your assistance," he told the Ocean Spirit.

The vaguely man-shaped form bowed and then flowed back into the pattern of waves. Turning back to an unimpressed Oreius and Edmund, Peter grimaced and gave them the details they needed to know.

Slightly out of breath, Peter concluded his narrative just as the Healer and entourage arrived. A frowning Oreius nodded once and moved off to consult with other military leaders. Edmund pulled Peter against him; too tired to protest, Peter sank into his brother.

"See? I told you, you should only run if you're being chased," Edmund shifted so he could take more of his brother's weight. "This whole 'running to clear your head' thing is complete nonsense; why can't you go for a ride like normal people?"

" 'm sorry, Your Royal Highness," Peter said, the sarcastic reply losing its effect as the older boy broke off into coughs.

"Stay where you are," the Healer barked as Edmund made a move to help his brother. The Healer knelt over the brothers, inspecting Peter with a single-minded determination. At length, she turned and gave a list of orders to two nearby assistants, one of whom was a cheetah, who leapt off toward the castle.

"Back to Cair Paravel immediately," the Healer stated shortly, as she spread a paste over the worst of the wounds. The bleeding temporarily staunched, she nodded to Algaron, who had been lingering unnoticed at the edge of the crowd. Sheathing his blade, the arms master came over and lifted Peter up without so much as a 'by your leave'.

"I can walk."

"I'm sure you can, your Majesty."

"I can be walking now."

"Yes, my King."

"You could put me down."

"I could, my King"

"I could order you to."

"Yes, milord, you could."

"Would that have any effect?"

"I would not presume to know the future, my King."

"You're infuriating."

Somewhere behind him, Edmund was laughing. _Correction_, Peter thought_, this is the most undignified position I've been in_.

With a purely internal sigh, Peter realized he was being placed on a horse.

"I should have figured you would be a part of this," he said, looking down at the ears of his mount. Swiveling his head around, Philip, Edmund's friend and principal mount, replied, "It is an honor, King Peter."

Realizing there was no way around it, Peter resigned himself to more humiliation, followed by fussing. _I could have had my throat ripped out and saved myself the trouble…_

Setting off at a snail's pace, the entire group began the trip back to Cair Paravel. Halfway back, Peter gave up all pretenses of riding and clung to the saddle, trusting Philip to not let him fall. By the time they reached the path leading up to the castle, Peter was acutely aware of Oreius and Edmund on either side of him. By the time he could see Lucy standing at the entrance, he was ready to swallow whatever the healers wanted him to have.

But not whatever Lucy wanted him to have.

"No, Lucy," he said by way of greeting. The Fireflower juice was in her hands. Seeing her unnaturally white face framed by frowning brows he hastened to explain, "Really, Lu, it's fine; I'm sure whatever rumors have made their way up here are worse than it really is." He tried to smile reassuringly at her.

Queen Lucy, youngest of the siblings, looked to Edmund inquiringly. Sighing explosively, Edmund unexpectedly came to Peter's aid. "I don't think we need it, Lucy, but keep it nearby."

Lucy made a face at both her brothers but remained silent. The healer came to reapply the salve to Peter's torso then gave him something vile to drink. By the time Algaron had lifted him down, High King Peter had drifted into welcoming darkness.

—oo0O0oo—

"How could this have happened?"

"It's always a risk, even in Narnia."

"That's not an answer."

Voices, familiar and comforting, drifted around him.

"I've already told you everything I know; I need to get back to the War Council."

"They won't decide anything further until he wakes up."

"Yes, but they'd have to do without my charming demeanor." That was Ed. And the other was Susan. Why was his head so…swimmy? Worse than imbibing too much Dwarven ale.

"He's waking up!"

Lucy. _Well, if I feel this muddled at least someone managed to keep her from wasting her Gift._ The other voices fell silent, and Peter could hear the rustling of cloth as someone stood up.

"Peter?" Edmund, once again, could not be ignored.

"Yes?" Petered opened his eyes, feeling them tear against the sudden light as he tried to make out his brother's face.

"How are you feeling?" Susan's worried face edged out Edmund.

"Fi—thirsty," Peter altered his answer mid-word at a glance from Susan. Susan's face disappeared from his line of sight. A smaller hand tugged on his, and he moved his head to see Lucy's smiling face.

"You should've let me," she chastised gently. "As it is, you've received quite a few lacerations, the most worrisome in your side, though the Healers have decided you will live. You're shirt, or what's left of it, is another story. And you should have know better than to try to breathe the water that came to your rescue!" Her teasing tone drew a smile from Peter. Susan returned with a cup of water that Peter eagerly accepted.

"What time is it? What's happened?" Peter asked trying to sit up. Edmund held him in place with a hand.

"Don't try it, or you'll be drugged again." Rolling his eyes in an un-king-like manner, Peter consented.

"Nothing, really, and it is not even noon," Susan explained. "We called a War Council, but beyond the preliminary work of tracking the assassin, the council wanted to wait for your input."

Peter winced at the term, assassin, but couldn't argue it.

"None of the known militant groups have claimed responsibility. Our spies are working to gather information from the most likely factions, but no one seems to be behind the attack," Susan continued, smoothing her skirts in an unconscious gesture.

"Single, random event?" Peter asked.

"Possible, but not probable," Edmund answered, "More likely some new extremist group, a holdout of the Witch's regime."

Peter sighed; this was not what they needed right now. "Until they make another move, assuming they do, it will be difficult to know what we are dealing with."

His siblings nodded, each lost in their own thoughts. Edmund rose from his seat. "I'll inform the more dramatic members of the court that you are not only _not_ on your deathbed, but you're awake and making as much sense as you ever do. Can I tell the Council something official from you? Make it sound Peter-like so they'll believe me, and no, you cannot go yourself."

Pulling a face that made Lucy giggle, Peter responded, "I want updates on the search for the assassin; use the trees and birds as necessary. Collect data on any complaints, pockets of unrest, rumors, etc of those who might be sympathetic to the Witch, especially anything that has surfaced in the last two weeks. I want to know if there has been a shift in location of the fringe groups, or anything to suggest a new leader. Narnia will be home to all who wish to live in harmony, as Aslan intended. We will not suffer malcontents to endanger the lives of those inhabitants." The High King had spoken.

"That should do." Edmund grinned and left the room.

The girls exchanged smiles. "You should rest, Peter."

"Susan…"

"Rest of your own volition or the healers will be in here," Susan warned, leaning over to kiss his forehead. "Please, Peter, we've had enough excitement for one day, and it isn't even time for the noon meal."

In the face of his sister's concern, Peter relented. Satisfied, Susan took her leave.

"Mr. Tumnus gave me the most wonderful book about Narnian legends of humans," Lucy voice was muffled as she bent over looking for something on the table beside the bed. "You will never believe what it says about us…" Listening to Lucy's voice, Peter drifted off again, wondering if Lucy hadn't figured out some Narnian magic to lull him to sleep.

—oo0O0oo—

Author's note: Next chapter to be posted in a few days (approximately seven chapters total). Thanks for reading! -Narelena


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are not mine. No infringement intended upon the property of C.S. Lewis, Disney, Walden Media, or anyone else involved.

Author's Note: All mistakes are that of the author. Thank you to all who reviewed.

Summary: A cunning new foe emerges, endangering Narnia and the Pevensie siblings. When Peter is targeted, the Kings and Queens seek to unlock the mystery of the threat in time to save what is precious.

—oo0O0oo—

Smoke and Mirrors, Chapter 2

"Peter, help us! Please." Trying to reach them in the darkness was impossible. Peter's limbs were leaden, and the gloom around him seemed a viscous hindrance.

"Peter!" The cries became more frantic as they faded away. Struggling against invisible bonds, Peter couldn't get to them.

"Peter!"

Peter sat up suddenly, only to have pain shoot through his body. Gasping, he realized someone had a grip on his upper arms. Confused as to why he was hurt and terrified that he couldn't help those that called to him, he fought.

"Peter, calm down! It's me, Edmund. Please!" Peter focused on the face of his brother, shadowed in the flickering light of a dying fire. Realizing he was at home, Peter stilled and wrapped his arms around a burning midsection. Memory flooded his mind; a half-groan escaped his lips.

"Easy, Peter. You were dreaming and wouldn't wake up. Here." Edmund had one arm around his brother and the other holding a cup. "It's only water, you don't need to make a face like a child."

Finishing the water and pulling at the sweat-stuck nightshirt, Peter looked at Edmund. "Why are you here?"

"Watching over you, in case you do something daft." Edmund grinned in the face of his older brother's glare.

It was still dark outside, although dawn couldn't be far off. "Has there been any news?"

Edmund shook his head. "Nothing more interesting than the lack of news I told you about at supper. I fear that the morning's council will be more of the same."

The brothers were quiet for a minute. "What were you dreaming about?"

"I don't know." Edmund started to protest, but Peter went on, "Really, I can't remember. Fragments of a dream; I just can't get to wherever I'm supposed to be."

"You shouldn't have dreamt after taking the healer's sleep draught," Edmund commented.

"Maybe it wore off," Peter suggested. Edmund frowned but didn't press the subject.

"You scared the life out of me yesterday," Edmund said, as though he was remarking on the weather. It occurred to Peter this was the first time he'd be alone with his brother since the attack.

"It wasn't my idea of a wonderful morning, either," Peter said by way of apology.

"Oreius and Sammesun have set security for all of us," Edmund offered. Sammesun was the faun in charge of defenses of Cair Paraval and the royal family. Peter's jaw tightened at the news; he hated the forced protection, but nodded in acquiescence. Silence.

"I'm ok, Ed, really."

"I know."

Peter put an arm around Edmund and pulled the younger boy toward his uninjured side. For a second, Ed resisted then accepted the comfort his brother was offering. The stayed that way for a long while as the sky grew grey with false dawn.

—oo0O0oo—

In the silence of the Lesser Audience Hall, Peter drew a breath, then stifled a wince as it pulled on healing wounds. One heartbeat went by, then another, and suddenly everyone was talking at once.

Susan rose and spoke with a castle attendant; she would see that their guest was provided for, Peter thought. Lucy was already listening to birds enlisted to help with communications throughout Narnia. Edmund was engaged in verbal sparring with some of the more outspoken members of the council.

Peter considered the report from the disheveled badger he had just received: an attack on a northern military outpost. Details were sketchy, something the badger was repeatedly apologetic for, but preliminary reports indicated heavy casualties, including the families of those who were assigned to that post. Catching Oreius's eye, Peter nodded.

_Centuars are good for a great many things, not the least of which is getting attention_, Peter thought as the conversations came to a spluttering end in the wake of a thundering of Oreius's hooves.

"Lucy, what have our winged friends told you?" Peter asked as Susan returned to her seat.

"Mainly they confirm the Badger's report; they indicate a well-armed force struck just as the birds began their morning song. Beyond that, there are some conflicting stories. Most of the birds scattered in the confusion, and all from the area are terribly frightened."

_That is the trouble with birds, _Peter thought, _all flights of fancy_. Judging from the look on Edmund's face, he was having similar thoughts.

"We will send a force to investigate what we can. This may be related to yesterday's incident; since the tracking force has been unsuccessful, we cannot yet know what we are dealing with." Peter's voice dropped as he directed the last at the hothead pair Edmund had been dealing with. The mountain goats looked back unabashed.

"Your Majesty, your trial from yesterday no doubt weighs heavily on your mind, as they do on all Narnians, but I must remind you we have had these incidents before. We should not react with undue force," the smiling fox, Rotarit, voiced his opinion smoothly.

_Lucy does not like him_, Peter thought, watching his youngest sister's shoulders tighten almost unnoticeably. _I wonder if she realizes she doesn't like him_.

"Nor should we fail to take this threat seriously," Edmund spoke up, arms crossed. "We have destroyed renegade groups before; not all who were sympathetic to the Witch were defeated during the Battle of Beruna. It is imperative we deal with this immediately and effectively. I fear diplomatic dances will have little effect here."

Cautious nods from around the room showed most in favor of Edmund. Rotarit smiled again. "Of course, King Edmund, I would hate for more to be injured in what could be perceived as…youthful enthusiasm. It is always the concern of the old creatures."

And then more nods. _Half the council is still in the habit of agreeing, _Peter thought. _It is, after all, what got them through the 100 Year Winter._

"No one is suggesting a thoughtless reaction, Rotarit," Susan's sweet smile turned all to her. "A calculated, trained forced to investigate is precisely what we need. Information, ladies and gentlemen, is sorely needed. We cannot respond to threat without knowing what that threat is."

_Bless Susan and her common sense; the fact that she uses her gentle demeanor to hide the core of steel doesn't hurt us either_. Peter sought Edmund's eye, silently communicating his plans. A nod from his brother confirmed that he had come to the same conclusion.

Rising, Peter drew the attention of the council. "We shall send a unit to investigate the attack. The unit will be lead by King Edmund; he will detail which squadrons will form the unit. Diplomatic dance or battle blades, King Edmund has Narnia's utmost faith."

—oo0O0oo—

"They would make an eight hour affair of spilt milk." Edmund flung open the door to Peter's study.

An hour after the decision, Edmund was dressed in Narnian colors, slapping gloves into the palm of his hand, a gesture of pure frustration. Leaning back in his chair, Peter surveyed his little brother.

"You have what you need?"

"Yes. We're prepared and assembled."

"Do I need to tell you to be careful?"

Edmund flashed a cheeky grin. "Course not, milord High King, I'm the picture of restraint and caution."

Peter snorted and came around the desk. "I'll see you and your unit off; if nothing else I can prove I'm not about to fall over dead." Edmund raised an eyebrow, his expression speaking volumes about the health of his elder brother.

"As you wish, o Magnificent One."

Peter smacked Edmund upside the head.

As the unit disappeared, a light cloud of dust behind them, Peter tried to ignore the feeling that now his brother really was out of his reach, darkness or no.

—oo0O0oo—

A scream rocked the pristine halls of Cair Paravel.

Peter entered his sister Lucy's sitting room to find the younger girl in Susan's arms. Two guards were already searching the room for hidden dangers. Sheathing Rhindon, Peter walked over to the girls, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Lu, what's the matter?" A guard, returning from the sleeping chambers, shook his head slightly, indicating nothing amiss. Peter motioned for them to resume their posts.

Lucy swallowed audibly, then pointed to a parcel that had dropped to the floor. Peter picked up the torn paper; out dropped a rabbit's foot, stained red with blood. From inside the package, Peter pulled a note: _For Luck, Lucy the Valiant_. The words had been written in blood.

Roughly, Peter shoved the 'gift' back into the wrapping. Anger made his grey eyes storm; making his way to the door, he issued orders to the guards who hastened to do their King's bidding.

"Lucy, did someone bring you the package to you or was it here when you got back from luncheon?" Lucy straightened at the question, getting herself under control.

"It was here when I came back; I didn't think anything of it. Mr. Tumnus often sends me packages—it's almost a game."

"Was anything out of place when you got back?"

Lucy shook her head. Sammesun arrived then and was brought up to speed. Taking over the investigation, he removed the offending article, ordered the room to be examined again, and sent off a number of inquiries for palace staff. That taken care of, Peter was free to see to his sisters.

"I'm alright, Peter. Susan, if I have any more tea I'll positively float away." Curled up the armchair in Susan's room, Lucy looked far more herself. Mr. Tumnus had just arrived, and Peter and Susan were needed elsewhere.

Dropping a kiss on her forehead, Peter reluctantly made his way to the door. Just as he turned the corner, he caught a glimpse of Lucy, blood on her hands, holding them out entreatingly. Blinking, he looked again, Lucy still in the chair with Mr. Tumnus offering to play on his pipes. Shaking his head, Peter continued down the hall hoping someone would have answers.

—oo0O0oo—

"Peter?" Susan peeked into the room. "Edmund is on his way back."

Peter pulled himself from the map he had been studying, gingerly stretching. "That didn't take long. Was anything sent with the messenger?"

Susan shook her head as she slipped her arm through her brother's. Waiting on the steps of Cair Paravel, the siblings could see Edmund at the head of a group of Narnians. Terrified, Peter saw blood on Edmund's tunic and a hasty bandage around his head as Philip came to halt.

"—you're alright!" Lucy's words forced Peter's attention to his youngest sibling. Looking at the brother she now embraced, Peter saw no traces of blood or bandage, just the grime from the road and lines of worried exhaustion. Swiping at he eyes, he went to offer a hand Edmund.

"I have news," Edmund stated without preamble. "I need the council assembled."

Walking to the Council Chamber, Edmund let out an annoyed noise. "Pete, stop _looking_ at me like that; I'm fine. Hungry, but fine."

Chastened, the High King busied himself with preparations to the council, but not without sneaking looks at his younger brother. _It seems I have a much too active imagination lately_, Peter reasoned with himself.

With the Council assembled, Edmund gave his account of the destruction of the northern outpost.

"Trained fighters, as we suspected. Disciplined troops and efficient kills. It appears they took the scouts down undetected and infiltrated the fort," Edmund's voice was devoid of emotion, the tautness of his voice the only indication of his feelings. "Most of our people were caught unaware in the night, and the emergency escapes had all been compromised. Our people were never able to launch a coordinated counter attack, nor were they able to retreat through the standard escape paths. There are 6 survivors, all injured; the rest of the posting was killed."

Pausing to take a drink, Edmund continued, "I have concluded this is connected to the attempt on the High King's life." Mummers spread through the room. Edmund held up a hand for silence. "On a wall in the common area, written in the blood of its defenders, was a threat to the Kings and Queens of Narnia, promising more bloodshed if the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve continued to sit upon thrones."

"Taken in conjunction with the assassination attempt and the threat Queen Lucy received—"

"What threat?" Edmund's voice cut off Sammesun.

Sammesun explained the earlier events and concluded, "Two is coincidence, three points to conspiracy. I am of the mind that we have a new, serious security threat. We will immediately place the utmost safeguards on our Kings and Queens."

"With your permission, Your Majesties, I will send squadrons to look for renegades." Oreius's displeasure with the turn of events was clear. Edmund and Peter both nodded; Oreius had handled similar hunts before with a brutal efficacy.

Edmund looked to Peter to conclude the meeting with the normal flurry of delegations, but found the eldest sibling strangely preoccupied. Unnerved by his brother's odd behavior, Edmund stood and dismissed the Council before hauling his brother out of the room.

"Ed, what are you doing?" Peter asked as they entered a private sitting room.

"What am I doing? What were you doing? Were you even paying attention in there?" The stress of Edmund's day was making him short tempered.

"Yes, Edmund, I heard what you and the others said. You handled the council effectively; there was no reason for me step in." Which sounded so unlike Peter, Edmund gaped at his brother.

Peter avoided his brother's eyes; in truth he felt like he was loosing his mind. He was continually second guessing himself throughout the council; worse he thought he saw palace attendants on the floor, bleeding from slashed throats. Collapsing into the padded chair, he pacified Edmund, "I think I'm still a little rattled from yesterday. And, Aslan, do those marks sting."

Hearing his brother admit he was in pain cut through Edmund's frustration. Sighing, "Why don't we get some supper? Everyone's already doing what is needed. Did you have any luck with the reports from the last weeks?"

"No, but I want you too look at them." Peter started toward the door. "I feel like there should be a pattern to them, but I can't find it."

"Peter," Edmund put his hand on the door to prevent Peter from opening it. "No one who did not know the layout of the northern fort could have collapsed all the emergency escapes; they were made by badgers and beavers and all manner of creatures. Even I couldn't remember them all without help."

Dark eyes met grey ones as the Kings of Narnia contemplated the implications of such a statement. With a nod of acknowledgement, Peter pulled open the door and they exited the room.

—oo0O0oo—

"Really, Your Majesty, this is for the best," Sammesun reasoned. Peter resisted tapping his foot in irritation.

"I am not sleeping in a different room, no matter how secure you claim it to be."

"King Peter, the interior rooms are there for a reason. No windows mean one less way for an assailant to breach the security, and safeguarding the throne is the responsible course of action."

Peter narrowed his eyes at Sammesun's words, suspecting correctly the faun had chosen them to maneuver the king. "Queens Lucy and Susan are going to move; there is no reason for me to move as well."

Sammesun drew a large breath, but whatever else he intended to say was interrupted by Edmund darting up the stairs.

"Ah, Sammesun, I see you found him. Now Pet—"

"Your Majesties, Mr. Sammesun," A breathless cheetah sketched a hasty bow. "Come quickly, Queen Susan…"

"Where?"

"Her quarters, King Edmund."

The brothers raced off, Sammesun close on their heels.

The scene in Susan's room eerily resembled that of Lucy's from earlier. Susan stood in the middle of room, calmly speaking to a guard. Only those that knew her well would have detected the undercurrent of anger in her voice.

"Peter, Edmund. Ah, and Mr. Sammesun, just the faun for the job." Queen Susan was clearly in control. "I believe I have another piece of the puzzle." With a gesture, she indicated a tray with evening tea.

"I did not see who brought it, and neither did my lady's maid."

At first glance, there appeared to be nothing wrong, but then a drop of something red fell from the petals of an artfully arranged single rose in a bud vase. _Blood_, Peter thought nauseated. _The rose petals have been coated with blood_.

"It is blood," Sammesun confirmed what they already knew. "No note this time, however."

Susan reached toward the flower. "There doesn't have to be, I believe the point was made."

Peter watched his sister, then started in surprise when she turned her hand to him, thorns imbedded in her palm, rivulets of blood running down to the sleeves of her gown. He took a step toward her and grasped her wrist, pulling her away from the flower.

"Peter!" Susan exclaimed. "I wasn't going to touch it, honestly."

Peter looked down at his sister's unblemished hand. Releasing it as though her skin burned him, he retreated hastily into Edmund. "Peter, watch where you are going." Edmund's hands went around his brother in an attempt to steady them both. The contact on Peter's wounds centered him, and he became aware of the eyes on him.

"Sorry, Ed. Susan, shall we join Lucy in the rooms Sammesun has prepared for you? I'm sure Sammesun can handle things from here." Words tumbled out of Peter's mouth, in an attempt to hide his discomfort. Without waiting for an answer, the High King steered his sister out of the room.

"Susan! They wouldn't let me leave." Lucy's indignation was clear as the entered the windowless, interior room. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, Lucy, I'm fine. I'm not sure about Peter, though," Susan said, rounding on her older brother. Peter was methodically going through the room, looking for anything that might endanger his sisters.

"They've already been over this room," Lucy told him. Not giving any appearance he'd heard her, Peter finished his search and turned to face a confused Lucy and a resolved Susan.

"Peter, really, have a seat and some tea." Susan motioned toward a chair. Peter jerked his head once and started to pace, trying not to look at anyone. Looking at one of his sisters for too long resulted in a bizarre double image of bleeding hands held out to him and ghastly, pleading faces. _I'm going insane_, he thought.

"Edmund, reason with him," Susan greeted the younger king as he came into the room.

Without responding, Edmund hooked an arm around his brother, ignoring the faint grunt of pain, and unceremoniously pushed him into a chair. With his free hand he poured wine from a flask into a goblet and thrust it in Peter's direction. "Drink."

Perhaps surprised into submission, Peter did as he was told. Lucy wrinkled her nose; she didn't like spirits and much preferred the sweet fruit juice of Narnia. Susan shot Edmund a look as if to say that was _not _the preferred solution to the problem. He shrugged and went back to watching his brother.

"I already told Sammesun we will all be sleeping here tonight."

Peter looked at Edmund from the corner of his eye; he couldn't think of a logical protest.

"You're being very bossy," Peter replied finally, twisting the now empty goblet in his hand. The wine had relaxed him enough that the iron self-control he was fighting for remained out of reach. He was suddenly aware that his wounds stung terribly; the yawn that just escaped his lips had pulled on the gashes in his side.

"Come Lucy, let's change for bed." With that Susan took the younger girl out of the room.

"Peter, take off your shirt and let me change the dressings on the wounds. Or I can get a Healer." Such a choice was no choice at all, and Peter struggled out of his shirt.

"If I asked you what was wrong," Edmund began as he sliced through old bandages, "is there any chance you would tell me?"

"I am tired," Peter hissed as Edmund spread salve on his wounds. "I told you about the dreams, and the lack of sleep is causing my mind to play tricks on me. There is nothing that you and the girls are not also worried about." _That's all true_, Peter justified to himself.

"Hold still, I'm almost done." Peter held his breath to keep from flinching away from Edmund who was wrapping a fresh bandage around the injuries.

"I don't know what is driving you to such distraction, Peter, but I wish you would confide in someone. This new foe is bold and cunning, and I am beginning to have doubts that my charms will not be enough for victory," Edmund's impish grin won a returning smile from Peter. But then blood trickled from Edmund's nose into the smiling mouth. _No!_ Peter screamed mentally as he crushed Edmund to his chest.

"Ouff. Peter, kind of need to breathe," Edmund complained as he returned his brother's embrace. When Peter pulled back, Edmund face was clean and whole.

Later that night, his siblings' even breathing telling him they were all asleep, Peter rationalized the visions. _Stress does strange things to the body and lack of sleep makes even the hardiest of souls more susceptible_, Peter thought, _It is the lack of answers and continued threats that's effecting me so. It will pass. _As his eyes drifted shut, he thought he saw a shadow, darker than dark, drift overhead. _Nonsense, now I'm creating monsters. High Kings are not afraid of monsters lurking in cupboards_. But that night Peter dreamed of a black darker than night disrupted only by rivers of blood.

—oo0O0oo—

Author's note: Next chapter to be posted within a week. Thanks for reading! -Narelena


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are not mine. No infringement intended upon the property of C.S. Lewis, Disney, Walden Media, or anyone else involved.

Author's Note: All mistakes are that of the author. Thank you to all who reviewed.

Summary: A cunning new foe emerges, endangering Narnia and the Pevensie siblings. When Peter is targeted, the Kings and Queens seek to unlock the mystery of the threat in time to save what is precious.

—oo0O0oo—

Smoke and Mirrors, Chapter 3

"You are telling me that no one saw who delivered this?" King Peter's careful pronunciation of each syllable did not reflect well on his temperament. The assembled palace guards and attendants mutely shook their heads.

"It just appeared this morning, conjured out of the summer breeze, to land on a stack of official documents? I would like an explanation." Edmund's eyebrow rose imperceptibly at Peter's tone. It was unlike Peter to adopt sarcasm in the presence of Narnian subjects.

"Very well, then. Please, return to your duties. Any information you may remember will be of use." Peter's voice had softened, but the frustration was still evident. As the doors closed, Peter sighed and looked back at the parchment in his hands. The council chamber was quiet, only the noise of fidgeting members disturbing the air.

"Everyone is understandably distressed by this turn of events." Susan broke the silence. "Still, this could be valuable information. Someone is claiming responsibility, and the ultimatum, however distasteful, allows us a glimpse of our foe's goals."

"Yes, but we still are no closer to discovering who this Gastavon character is or what his power and resources are," pointed out Edmund.

"He has access to the palace, or at least he has supporters who do." Sammesun indicated the items on the table. "These are all confirmed from the personal chambers of Their Majesties."

Everyone noticed the careful omission of the word traitor, but that did not prevent speculation. The jade carving of a squirrel, the ivory inlaid hair comb, a set of playing dice, and a ring with the Narnian seal all sat accusingly on the polished wood. Each item missing presumably within the last day or so, as Susan had worn those combs the morning of the attack on Peter. Each item returned this morning by unknown courier.

"Gastavon, whoever he is, must be feeling comfortable with his current situation to, uh, demand such an action," Sammesun continued to muse aloud.

"Comfortable?!" Edmund burst out. "Comfortable? Comfortable is settling into a nice chair; Gastavon is ready to move in and hang tapestries to his liking. Demanding the abdication of the throne and public execution of Peter and me, forcing Susan and Lucy to live as slaves, and threatening the bloodshed of innocent lives is a bit past _comfortable_!"

"Edmund, there's no reason to get so excited. It won't happen; it can't. We will fight this Gastavon, for Narnia, for Aslan." Lucy's sweet voice countered.

At that, conversations from all members of the council started up assessing the threat and offering countermeasures. Amidst the chaos, Peter reached out to pick up the carving from Lucy's room. Fingering the figure, Peter tried to reconcile the events of the morning, opening the package with the ultimatum signed by the mysterious Gastavon and realizing whose possessions were inside the parcel, with the events of the last two days. In his hand, the carving turned to flesh and he could feel a faltering heart beat when hard stone had been. The dying squirrel held the King's eyes as it drew its last shuttering breath. With a snap, Peter set the figurine back on the table, inadvertently drawing everyone's attention.

Shaking off the image, Peter said, "Oreius, please increase your efforts and forcefulness of raids on known holdouts of the Witch's followers; perhaps one of them will have information on this Gastavon character. Also, bring the army to a heightened status of vigilance. It is time we made this threat known to the public, and we must reassure them we are doing everything to protect them and subdue this new threat. In the meantime, Sammesun, please continue your efforts and keep me apprised of the situation. We shall reconvene two marks before the evening meal."

Standing, Peter drew everyone to their feet and nodded his permission to leave. Lucy linked her small arm through his and steered him out as well, Peter trying to not look at the tear of blood running down the jade surface of the squirrel she had reclaimed.

—oo0O0oo—

"Peter, Oreius received word that one of his patrols is bringing in several creatures detained for questioning. One of whom has apparently agreed to give information about Gastavon." Edmund found Peter working in his study.

"And what do we have to do, or not do, in return for this information," Peter's dry tone indicated he had had a disproportional amount of these sorts of incidents for his short tenure as High King.

"Well, we could let Oreius rough him up a bit—might save us a bit of hassle, but then Oreius would never agree to doing things civilly or diplomatically again, which would lead to chaos and anarchy, a lack of respect for law and due process, not to mention a decrease in the quality of tea."

"Tea?" The single word spoke volumes.

"Yes, everyone knows that higher civilization and good tea are directly linked. Destroy one and it's a downhill tumble until everyone is drinking ale, or worse that bizarre coffee concoction, and we're dancing naked in the street."

"Naked in the street?" Peter echoed.

"Perhaps not the street, since Narnia doesn't have a proper road system. Do you realize folks are still pestering me about that?" Edmund frowned at his brother.

"Edmund, brother, you are very odd. I would fear the strain of your responsibilities has addled your wits, but then I remember you never had any to begin with."

"Nonsense! I have always had my wits."

"It must be your brains and sense that failed to appear, then."

"Just trying to keep it in perspective for you, Your Highest Kingness," Edmund mocked a bow.

"Ha, ha," Peter commented dryly, as he lead the way to the door. "Really, Edmund, what does the informant want?"

"You wound me," Edmund pouted a moment longer, before reverting to more serious matters. "Information in return for a pardon, the usual."

"A pardon for what?"

Edmund shrugged. "Conspiring with the Witch, traitorous crimes fit to result in meeting the business end of Oreius's sword, shady moral character and brewing sub par tea."

Peter laughed despite himself. "You are insufferable, Ed,"

Edmund put an arm around Peter. "You like me this way. Peter, please keep this in perspective. It is a dire situation, make no mistake, but have a care for yourself, especially since you seem to not be yourself of late."

Peter stiffened under Edmund's arm. "I am fine and will be better when we hear what this creature has to say."

Pulling away from his brother, Peter continued down the hall, wiping blood off his hands, only to discover they were clean the whole time.

—oo0O0oo—

"Your name, Hag." Peter's voice easily carried the length of the throne room.

The female creature before the Four Thrones lifted her head from stooped shoulders and spread her lips in the parody of a smile, revealing missing teeth.

"Brega," The Hag croaked, then cleared phlegm noisily from her throat. From the corner of his eye, Peter saw Lucy's nose subtly wrinkle in distaste.

"In Alsan's name, you have been accused of treason against Narnia, aiding and conspiring with a known enemy of the Throne, giving aid during a time of War to an enemy of Narnia, failing to swear Allegiance to Aslan, injuring members of the Narnian Guard, and evading representatives of the Throne. How do you plead, Hag Brega?" Edmund read the crimes from the parchment in his hands.

"Those are only crimes from your perspective, Son of Adam," The Hag's voice grated.

"You shall show respect, or we can continue this in less pleasant circumstances," Oreius growled from his vantage point by the thrones.

"Peace Oreius," Edmund commanded. "There is enough evidence to find you guilty of these crimes regardless of how you plead, so let us get to the point. Tell us what we wish to know, and your fate will be more agreeable. Deny us and you face the Tribune's decision on your fate; believe me, they grow weary of these trials."

The Hag hissed at the mention of the Tribune, a council hand picked by the royal siblings for determining the fate of lesser conspirators with the Witch. In the face of scores of followers of the Witch, Peter quickly realized he could not have them all tried before the Kings and Queens, as was customary for Narnian traitors. The Tribune was established and quickly established a reputation for honest appraisal and swift retribution.

"Very well, Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, I will cooperate for a full pardon."

"This is not a negotiation; you will tell us what we want to know. If that information is of value to us, we will consider that in deciding your fate. Give falsehoods to us, and we will give you maximum punishment, as creatively as possible." Edmund held the eyes of the Hag until she looked away. Lucy squirmed, uncomfortable at hearing the harsh necessity in her brother's voice; it was not the first time this had occurred, however, and she endured.

"We understand you have had contact with a creature calling himself Gastavon. What type of creature is he, and where does he hail from?" Peter's question drew the Hag's attention.

"Gastavon, eh?" The Hag cackled. "Got yourself a right bit of problem there, Son of Adam. Sorcerer, that one is. Crafty fellow, a bit of a flair for the theatrical. And dead set against you as a farce of a ruler." The Hag sneered at Peter. "Nothing wrong with that."

Peter fastened flint grey eyes on Brega. "His powers, what are they?"

"Glamours and illusions, just bits of pretty. Nothing a strong creature couldn't stand against; you humans however…" The Hag's tone seemed to mock Peter. "Don't know where he came from, just appeared, set against the Usurpers."

"And his agenda?"

"Can't you figure it out, little king? I thought he'd made it quite clear what his intensions were." Oreius shifted uncomfortable at the Hag's taunts, tension evident in his posture.

"How many followers does he have? And I might remind you, your fate rests in my hands." Peter leaned forward in his throne toward the bent creature.

"I don't know. There were many folk unhappy with you lot taking the throne instead of a creature of Narnia. Not all in this land are so easily cowered by a roar. Gastavon is cleaver with words, and he is sweet of tongue; many will be drawn to him."

"And where is he?"

Brega shrugged and cleared her throat again. "To the south, somewhere."

"And your relation to him?"

"Those who dabbled in Magic did so with the blessing of the Witch. We had met."

"And the last time you had contact with him?"

"Ach—that would not be fair, little king," Brega's grin stretched across her face, as blue-grey smoke built around her form. "You did not ask me about my powers; where are your manners, boy?"

Oreius unsheathed a dagger and started toward the Hag, but Peter was quicker. Ignoring the foul smelling smoke, he strode to the Hag and reached through the haze to seize the creature.

"You will listen to me, you foul creature," Peter lifted Brega until her shoes barely reached the marble floor. "By the Lion, I will not suffer wretched things like you to taint all that is good in Narnia. I will find those who would destroy beauty and lock it away in a world of ice, and I will prevent them from harming a single blade of grass."

A wheezy laugh, and the smoke enveloped them both. "Can you do all those mighty things, little king, when you cannot even trust your own eyes?" The laugh ended in a choked cough and the vapor abruptly disappeared. Peter dropped the now dead body to the ground, turning to face his siblings.

"Suicide?" Oreius's normally unflappable demeanor seemed scandalized. "That is…highly unusual." The centaur concluded, hastily controlling himself. "But how?"

"Some unknown power." Peter's voice was dull.

"Her own, or someone else's?" Susan spoke for the first time. No one answered.

"Well, in any event," Edmund stood from his throne and walked to his brother. "By Alsan's name, I pronounce the Hag Brega guilty of all crimes. In appreciation for her cooperation, there will be no Tibune trial for her and as Edmund the Just, King of Narnia, I sentence her to a reduced tenure of 25 winter seasons in exile from Narnia." Edmund looked down at the body. "Unfortunately, before she could escorted to the border, the Hag Brega ended her own life. Her remains will be cared for, in the tradition of her people."

At a glance from Edmund, Peter spoke, "The interview with the Hag Brega is concluded. This assembly is dismissed."

Peter continued to stare at the body on the floor as those around him left the chamber. As he watched, it shifted from the Hag's face to his eldest sister's, then his brother's, and finally his baby sister's face looked up from him, eyes open and unblinking, shrouded by blue-grey smoke.

"Are you alright?" Ed's voice cut through his musing. "Peter?"

Blinking as though dazed, Peter turned his head to look at his brother's face. Dark eyes were drawn together in concern; dark eyes glazed over in death. Closing his eyes, Peter willed himself to concentrate on what was real.

"Are your wounds bothering you?" A hand on his arm, which he realized was wrapped tightly around his midsection. "Let me see." The hand pulled on his arm.

"No, it's fine, Ed." Peter's eyes remained closed. "We need to meet to discuss our next actions." Peter opened his eyes in time to catch a concerned look pass between Susan and Edmund.

"Come, Peter, let's retire to a lesser room to have that discussion. I daresay we could all use a bit of tea," Susan said from her place on the dais, one arm wrapped around Lucy.

"That's right, Peter. Remember, we're fighting to protect the exceptional Narnian tea."

"Apparently Edmund the Just has retreated to the guise of Ed the Jester," Peter drawled.

"Someone in this family has to be multitalented." Ed steered Peter toward their sisters.

"Edmund, what are you going on about?" Susan asked.

"Don't mind him, Susan, his wits are addled," Peter replied.

"At least now you admit that I have wits available to be addled!" Edmund retort, as Lucy giggled. No one commented on Peter's pale countenance or his inability to look anyone in the face.

—oo0O0oo—

One hand on the wall for balance, Susan descended one of the many steep back staircases in Cair Paravel. Leaving her siblings in the sitting room in the family quarters, she headed to the kitchen to gather some refreshments, including the exceptional tea upon which Edmund had insisted. It was easier for her to go and come back, rather than summon a servant who would no doubt raise suspicion that the Kings and Queens were deep in council regarding the recent threat. That was true, of course, but it was better not to feed the flames of gossip, however benign. At least that's what Susan told herself, ignoring her inner voice that told her that she liked to be the one to care for her siblings rather than a castle attendant.

Reaching the bottom, she opened a small door to her left—only to have it bump most unexpectedly into a soft barrier. An inarticulate protest and the sound of something clattering to the floor heralded Susan's arrival.

"Oh! I had no idea someone would be in here," Susan exclaimed, making her way to the fallen figure. Abruptly she paused, her vision expanding to take in the scene in the small room hardly used for anything but a convenient passageway by the few who knew it existed. Why there was a person using it as a workroom was a mystery. The small table was still upright, but an earthen bowl and jar had been knocked off, smoke rising from the debris on the floor. Made cautious by this morning's display, Susan seized the knife from the table and pointed it at the figure picking itself off the floor.

"Stay where you are and hold your hands out to the side," Queen Susan ordered. The figure straightened, its robes settling around the figure, and obeyed. "Turn around slowly."

The figure turned, revealing the face of an aged female faun. "Please, Your Highness, I beg your pardon. I did not expect anyone to be here either."

"What are you doing here?" Susan was still concerned rather than curious, and her grip on the knife remained steady.

The faun shifted nervously. The two females waited in silence. "Just a bit of stillroom work, my Queen."

"You are temporizing. Answer me truthfully, or I shall call for the guards."

The faun sighed, looking rather weary. "A sachet, filled with herbs for protection."

"Magic." Susan countered. The faun met her eyes then.

"Yes, but not as was displayed this morning. There are few of us left who practice magic in secret and for good. I am a hedge witch; most of my skills are used for healing and the like. I swear to you, I am loyal to Aslan and to you and your siblings."

Dust motes swirled in the pale light from the stairwell as Susan considered the faun before her.

"Explain to me what you were doing and why."

"Angelica root, blessed thistle, juniper berries, mullein, a touch of dill. An incantation to invoke power. That is all; it was for protection for your family and Cair Paravel."

"And the smoke?"

"Burning some of the herbs releases their power, a requirement of the spell."

"Why should I believe you?"

"I have no reason to lie."

"Many who appear to have no reason do."

"I give you my word, by Aslan's Voice."

Susan considered the faun; pledging by Aslan's Voice was a serious commitment. She did not sense malice or duplicity from the creature, and here was another source of information, very different than the Hag this morning.

"Your name?" A line of strain disappeared from around the faun's eyes.

"Meletra, you Majesty." The faun bobbed a curtsey.

"You know of magics? How they work?"

"I have limited knowledge, my Queen. Really, I am not powerful. And understanding how they can be applied is a more accurate term than how they work," Meletra replied.

"Do you know of any resources that could help us understand what our enemy's power entails?"

"I know there were texts, long forbidden by the White Witch, that may have been hidden in the catacombs of Cair Paravel which may contain details of magic. I also know of others who practice and are loyal to you."

Susan considered her options for a long while. The faun watched her appraisingly. "Very well. We need information of a different kind than they boys are used to getting," Susan sigh; Meletra cracked a smile.

"Will you help me, Mistress Meletra, in uncovering what we might about the power of this foe Gastavon?" Susan requested formally.

Again, the fawn curtsied. "I would be honored. I can arrange a meeting with a few others, if you would like"

"Alright then," Susan straightened her shoulders. "We shall attempt to combine our knowledge, and perhaps gain more. I do not believe I need to stress the importance of utmost secrecy."

"No, my Queen. All loyal to you understand what must have transpired for such events to occur." The implication of traitors within the palace hung in the air.

With a final nod, Susan left the room and continued on her errand, thoughts swirling in time with her skirts.

—oo0O0oo—

"Finally!" Edmund's cry greeted Susan. "Where have you been? I'm famished." He took a biscuit from the tray and stuffed it in his mouth, then relieved Susan of her burden.

"Edmund, manners!" Susan chastised. "And I'll have you know I had to go on a quest for tea that would meet your exacting standards."

"Which is ironic, since Edmund eats anything and everything at all hours of the day and night," Lucy chimed in. "I still don't believe he has culinary standards. Still, Susan what took so long?"

"I told you—tea. And a possible ally." Susan told them of her meeting with Meletra. "It may be a risk, but it is a calculated one," Susan finished.

"It would be very useful to have more knowledge about the magic. After all, we have little experience, and Gastavon seems to be one step ahead of us." Lucy swung her legs from where she sat in a chair.

"I don't like the risk," Edmund stated, "but I agree it's too valuable an opportunity to pass up. Peter, kindly cease wearing a hole in the floor."

Peter looked up at his name and stopped pacing. Susan's plan seemed solid, but he had his doubts about Meletra's trustworthiness. Visions of Susan, killed by mist in a back staircase, filled his mind. He could not seem to make a decision, for as soon as he thought he reached one, a horrible consequence occurred to him. The visions were getting stronger, more vivid. This time he could smell the herbs in the room surrounding the biting metallic odor of blood. Dragging his hands through his hair, he sat down and faced his siblings. "Sure, whatever you think Edmund." The other children gaped.

"Peter," Lucy's voice broke the silence, "are you quite alright? You look awful."

"Fine, Lucy. Fine, just tired." _Tired of seeing you die in horrible ways every time I look at you. _Peter dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Peter stop." Lucy pulled his hands away. Peter watched as blood pooled on his skin where she touched him. "Let me sit with you, please?" Without waiting for permission, she climbed up next to him, leaning against him. Peter felt her skin go from warm to mortally cool against him.

"Can I help you Susan?" Lucy asked. To Peter, she felt warm again.

"No." Lucy's head swiveled to look up at Peter.

"Why not?"

Peter drew in a breath to argue with Lucy, but Edmund broke in, "Actually, I think I have an idea for Lucy." He shot Peter an apologetic glance.

"Susan has just proven that there are unexpected allies here in the palace. And who knows Narnia better than its inhabitants? We need to use that to our advantage. Lucy, you know far more of the people here than the rest of us. And people trust you. Talk to them, Lucy, and see what they know. Maybe they have noticed odd things that we have overlooked," Edmund explained.

"I can do that." Lucy was nodding to herself.

"It is too dangerous; she'll be an instant target." Peter's voice was uneven.

"What if Mr. Tumnus went with her?" Susan offered.

"It would be conspicuous, but maybe just for when she left the inside of Cair Paravel," Edmund thought aloud.

"He's another person to betray us," Peter said.

"Mr. Tumnus would never!" Lucy was indignant.

"He might," Peter shot back. "Anyone could." A heavy silence settled as the four remember the White Witch.

"Well, as the expert here, I say it's unlikely for Mr. Tumnus to have any motive to betray Lucy or any of us," Edmund said with self-depreciating humor.

"Oh, Edmund, don't say such things," Susan admonished, looking to Peter who was usually the first to defend Ed to anyone, even for personal battles. Peter, though, was looking at the floor, mouth tight.

"Regardless, we do have a traitor somewhere, and we must find our mole," Edmund said.

"Why do you think it's a mole?" Lucy asked.

"It's just an expression, although it doesn't seem to be a tasteful choice of phrase here in Narnia."

"Suggestions for identification?" Susan was ever practical.

"Well, they obviously are within the palace or can get within the palace. And know enough about our habits and chambers to get in and out undetected," Lucy stated slowly.

"And they know about military things, like the exits for the outpost," Edmund added.

"If they have magic would they have to be in the building? Could they just…float the items out a window or something?"

"I don't think it works like that, Lu. Even in Narnia," Edmund replied. "The staffing of the Northern Outpost was common news, since some families moved there as well. It was the first permanent station of its kind. Anyone could have learned about it. The exits were more secret; a record of them is kept in the military archives, however."

"We need to find out if they are getting verbal or written information. That may make a difference," Susan pointed out.

"False reports," Edmund said. "Send out false reports and see what happens. Keep track of who gets told what story. See if Gastavon makes a move on false information."

"We will need more help than the four of us telling stories. Oreius and some of his captains will have to be trusted," Susan added. "We can spin our tales at communal suppers."

"And I can work in false military reports to see if any are being intercepted," Edmund said.

"Peter!" Lucy startled cry interrupted her older sibling's scheming. Peter sat, short breaths coming in harsh waves. His eyes were shut tight, and he was biting his lip. Suddenly, his hands came up to the side of his head. _Images, shattered as through looking at a reflection in a broken mirror, _Peter's senses were inundated, _Blood covering his hands, the silent accusations of his siblings as he failed to stanch the flow from unseen mortal wounds, distant laughter; you can't save them, any of them or your kingdom…_

"No!" Peter cried, shaking his head and standing up blindly, kicking his shin on a low table and causing Lucy to scramble for purchase on the seat.

Susan reached him first, but he easily shook her off. Edmund half-tackled him back into his seat.

"Peter!" Edmund unconsciously parroted Lucy.

Pulling his older brothers hands down and pinning them there, Edmund wrestled him under control. "Peter, stop, this is madness!"

Eyes flying open, Peter said, "Madness? Is this madness or reality?"

Stunned, Edmund started at his brother. Then they were both doused with water. From the corner of his eye, Edmund glanced at Susan, standing with an empty water pitcher in her hands. Under his hands, Peter's body relaxed, and he coughed at the water that had found its way into his mouth.

"Alright there, Pete?" Edmund inquired with forced casualness. Peter hesitated then nodded, and Edmund cautiously loosened his grip.

"Perhaps you ought to have a bit of a lie-down?" Edmund offered. Peter nodded again.

The brothers both rose, Peter not looking at any of them. Edmund and Susan communicated with a look: Edmund would see what he could get out of Peter. Susan stepped out of the way, allowing them to pass. Edmund opened the door to reveal an anxious guard, who was quickly reassured and dismissed. Carefully not touching, the brothers made their way toward Peter's sleeping chamber.

In the sitting room, Susan began methodically straightening things in the room. Lucy sat stone still on the settee. After a moment, Lucy asked, "How did you know to do that?"

Susan paused in her work and looked at Lucy. "I wasn't sure it would work," she confessed, "but I didn't know what else to do."

Lucy nodded in agreement with the helplessness her sister felt at the odd behavior of their normally composed eldest brother.

"It was something Mum once did." Susan's voice was quiet. "Peter was ill and having a nightmare; he wouldn't wake up. Mum upended a basin of water on him, and he woke up. I hadn't even remembered until just then."

"Do you think Peter is sick now?"

"I don't know what's the matter with Peter," Susan said, sitting down next to Lucy and putting an arm around her.

For a long time, the sisters sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts.

—oo0O0oo—

Author's note: Next chapter coming soon: Edmund quests for tea, Susan spends some quality time in a dusty room, and an old friend appears in an unlikely setting. Just kidding…more or less. Meanwhile, Peter's visions become more vivid, more convincing… Thanks for reading! -Narelena


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are not mine. No infringement intended upon the property of C.S. Lewis, Disney, Walden Media, or anyone else involved.

Author's Note: All mistakes are that of the author. Thank you to all who reviewed. Happy mid-week update!

Summary: A cunning new foe emerges, endangering Narnia and the Pevensie siblings. When Peter is targeted, the Kings and Queens seek to unlock the mystery of the threat in time to save what is precious.

—oo0O0oo—

Chapter 4, Smoke and Mirrors

"You got nothing out of him?" Susan's voice held a distinct note of incredulity.

"For the third time, no. He didn't say anything to me and was asleep almost as soon as he laid down. And he has been asleep ever since."

Susan frowned in response to Edmund's statement. Lucy fidgeted with the hem of a blanket. Despite it being after supper, the light from the lengthening days illuminated the fraying end of yarn. The three siblings had worked through the early evening hours to initiate their plan for uncovering the traitor. They had also been fielding questions about the High King's mysterious absence. A few carefully worded replies had deflected the brunt of the public inquiries but did nothing to alleviate the anxiety felt by the Pevensie siblings.

"Are you sure he's not ill?" Lucy asked, again, fingering the cordial on her belt. Her elder siblings traded looks across her head.

Covering her busy hands with his, Edmund replied, "No, we're not, Lu. But there's no sense getting overly worked up. Fatigue is a perfectly logical explanation." The last was said with added emphasis in Susan's direction.

Susan's countenance relaxed as she made a face at her younger brother. "Perhaps the best thing we can do for Peter is to solve the mystery of this Gastavon character. Edmund has spoken with Orieus, I am to meet with Meletra in less than a mark, and you are working on the palace inhabitants. We do have a plan." Susan joined her siblings on the sofa.

"And if he doesn't get better?" For a moment, Lucy sounded like the child she had been.

"We will use the cordial. It will be fine." Susan reassured her, stroking the younger girl's hair. Accepting the comfort for a minute, Lucy relaxed into her sister.

"Well, then," Lucy straightened, becoming the Valiant again, "we best continue."

—oo0O0oo—

Susan held her candle closer to the scrap of parchment, squinting to see her instructions. She was somewhere under the wine cellars of Cair, somewhere dusty, dark and an ideal place for a lone Queen to be ambushed. Pushing those _logical_ thoughts from her mind, she searched the wall for the marker indicated. Meletra had sent the parchment, indicating a friend of hers knew a place where books had been hidden during the early days of the White Witch. Susan was beginning to wonder if the friend was a bat or a rat or something that could see in the dark. Assuming it was a friend to Narnia at all.

Shaking her head at these untrustworthy thoughts, Susan spotted the carved lion's visage. Feeling a bit silly, she pressed the brick above and to the right. With the groan of rock on rock, a panel slide open and light spilled into the passageway.

Blinking, and with a hand on the hilt of her dagger, she met Meletra's anxious gaze.

"Queen Susan!" Meletra exclaimed. "Come in, please. I am glad you were able to find us. Allow me to introduce Rochella, the tortoise whose long memory is a boon to us. Next to her is my cousin by marriage, Yavet. And finally, I believe you know--"

"Mrs. Beaver!" Susan gaped at the animal in front of her.

"Queen Susan," Mrs. Beaver bobbed her head. "How do you think we knew so much about you and your siblings?"

Unable to think of anything to say, Susan helplessly shook her head.

"Well, come in, dear, and have a seat. Would you like toast with jam or a spot of tea?" Mrs. Beaver indicated the table around which the others were gathered.

Still dazed, Susan sat on a cushion by the low table. Trying to form a coherent thought, Susan asked, "Where are we?"

"Roughly under the intersection of the library and the great hall, Your Majesty," Rochella answered. "Through that door is a narrow passage, lined with shelves of books. Some are about Narnia's earliest history, some about magic and some about ridiculous protocol from the first King and Queen." Susan got the impression the tortoise was smiling, though it was hard to tell.

"When the White Witch took over, she sought to destroy reminders of the way Narnia was supposed to be, including the use of magic. Some of us continued to use the magic, for healing and the like, in secret and passed it down between families. Those who wanted to use magic openly and in the foulest of ways allied themselves with the Witch, though she only allowed those who were no threat to her to continue," Yavet's voice was grave as she continued the tale.

"Much of the knowledge of the great magic has been lost," Meletra said. "Even for those, like the tortoise, who retain knowledge of places like this. We will look in the scrolls and books for information on the one who threatens Narnia now, but we might not be successful."

Susan mulled this new information over. "You are all females, yet I understood Gastavon to be male. The White Witch and Hag were also female. Is there a connection?"

"The small magics, such as healing and herb lore tend to be more easily utilized by females, true, but that is not to say a male could not wield the power," Yavet answered.

"What do we know of this magic, like that of Gastavon and Brega. What power do they hold, and what can we do against it?" Queen Susan questioned the four around her.

"I can tell you what I know from memory," Rochella offered, "but I suggest we work to uncovered the knowledge that is lost, for I fear my knowledge is woefully inadequate. You'll have to excuse my lack of hands, though." Now Susan was sure the tortoise was smiling in her wry way.

"Yes, let us begin," Susan thought of Peter's odd behavior. "There isn't a moment to lose."

—oo0O0oo—

Susan had lost track of the hour, rubbing burning eyes as the words in an archaic version of Narnian script blurred together.

"Perhaps we aren't looking for the right thing," Susan commented with no little despair.

"We have learned about glamours, though, and have a possibility about the smoke the Hag used," Meletra pointed out.

"Yes, but this entire volume seems to be about exerting control over another, nothing about retrieving solid objects from distances or how to counteract an illusion." Yavet tugged at an ear.

"Control over another?" Mrs. Beaver peered over her teacup. "Goodness, do you think the White Witch did that?"

"I doubt she did it, it doesn't seem to be her style." Yavet grimaced. "Thank Aslan. It is more for control over one mind, and the Witch was concerned with the whole of Narnia."

Half-listening until this point, Susan gasped as she straightened in her seat. Four heads turned to her. "What if…no…I think…um…" Susan trailed off.

"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Beaver prompted.

Taking a breath, Susan collected herself. "What does it say?"

Eyeing her oddly, Yavet summarized, "An ancient form of a curse, to bind one's will to another. Considered to be especially vile in the early days of the Talking Animals, when free will and voice were novel. A magician would infiltrate the mind of another, gradually, impressing images and thoughts onto the other's consciousness. Accounts are very sketchy, and it hardly seems to work at all on four legged animals."

"How would someone perform this curse?" Susan was unaware her voice had grown sharp.

"It is not clear, my Queen." Yavet flipped through the pages. "It mentions the magician must have a 'determination' and something of the victim; there is mention of incubi, too. It is unclear, though. I am sorry."

"Oh Aslan," Susan breathed. "What if…"

"Queen Susan, dear, what is it?" Mrs. Beaver set a paw on Susan's arm.

"Could Gastavon have done this to Peter?"

Silence. Finally Meletra asked, "Is there something we should know about the High King?"

Briefly, Susan told them of her brother's troubles. "It doesn't seem logical, does it?" she concluded.

"It does not explain the item taken from your chambers, nor the attack on the outpost, but I do not think we can rule it out," Rochella eventually said. "Also, the Hag mentioned illusions and glamours as Gastavon's strengths. He could have the talent to create such a curse."

"We need to be certain." Susan began sorting through scrolls.

"All great magic leaves traces. That is one of the reasons it was impossible to do anything of that level while the Witch was ruling. She could follow it to the magician; perhaps we can do the same," Meletra offered.

"And, with luck, those working for Gastavon will be tainted, too," Mrs. Beaver added. "It'll be all right, dear. Your siblings have come through worse before; trust in Aslan."

—oo0O0oo—

It was nearly dawn before Susan returned to the upper levels of the castle. Bringing tea as a peace offering, Susan woke her younger brother.

Finishing his second cup of tea, Edmund considered everything Susan had learned. "So, you think that is what is wrong with Peter?"

Futilely smoothing her rumpled skirts, Susan nodded. "I do think something is affecting him, and that is the best explanation so far."

"I still think we should continue on our plans to uncover the traitor," Edmund said. "It might explain Peter, but this is not just an isolated plot against him. Gastavon wants to see all four of us fall and is not concerned about minimizing damages."

"Edmund?" Lucy's voice came through the door.

"Yeah, Lu, I'm awake."

"Really?" There was no masking the surprise in her tone as she pushed the door open.

"Yes, really. Susan was kind enough to wake me with the first birdsong."

"And you didn't chase her out?"

"Well, she brought me above average tea," Edmund conceded.

Lucy smiled at her older siblings before turning serious. "You need to get dressed, Ed. Orieus has had reports of random attacks throughout Narnia during the night. Susan, does this mean you discovered something with Ms. Meletra and her friends? Has anyone seen Peter yet?" As usual, the early hour did not deter Lucy's loquaciousness.

Edmund was already moving to the clothes press. "What sort of attacks?"

"I do not know, though I fear the worst. Oreius has apparently been frightening the attendants with his ill humor."

Stifling a yawn, Susan got to her feet and put an arm around Lucy. "I'll fill you in as I get ready for the day. Let's leave Edmund in peace."

"Neither of you have seen Peter?"

"He was still asleep, Lu. I'll check on him before I meet with Oreius," Edmund replied as he disappeared into the bathing chamber.

"Come on, Lucy. I need to speak with you." Susan guided her sister out the door.

—oo0O0oo—

By the time the noon meal occurred, Cair Paravel was in a controlled state of chaos. Reports of deadly, vicious attacks against known supporters of the four monarchs were filtering in from all areas of Narnia. Edmund had his hands full, dealing with the Council and the military. Susan was calming fears and reassuring the inhabitants of Narnia that they would find those responsible. Lucy, with the help of Mr. Tumnus, was speaking with all those in and around the palace in the hopes that they could uncover the identity of those whose loyalties had swayed.

Peter remained asleep.

A healer had told the siblings that the lacerations from the wolf attack were healing well, and he could find nothing save exhaustion wrong with the young king. The healer did consent to giving an official statement that the High King needed to rest to allow his body to fully recover, but that he was in no danger. The healer's assurances helped quell the most fervent rumors surrounding the High King's absence, but it did not stop the whispered, tense gossip.

Lucy fingered her cordial.

—oo0O0oo—

"Do you think it wise to move away from a central command?" Susan was grasping at straws and knew it.

"Susan, you are more than capable of command, as you yourself have pointed out more than once. The number of these attacks is increasing, and I think I have found a pattern in the attacks from the past few days," Edmund said, re-buckling his belt over his tunic and mail.

"The attack on the Northern Outpost was convenient for a statement, but it is an outlier. The rest of the attacks, including the wolf, are radiating out from Glasswater Creek area. The short range fighters are attacking closest to the mountains and river, while the long range fighters spread out into the surrounding country," Edmund continued in a low voice. "My instincts are telling me there, possibly in the mountains, is our foe."

A quick knock at the door and Lucy slipped in. "So it's true. You are going."

Edmund bit his lip and nodded. Lucy walked over and put her arms around Edmund's waist, before gesturing for Susan to join them in a three-way embrace.

"I have spoken to a stable hand and to several of the Talking Horses, including Philip. Several of them have seen a fox, slipping in and out of the castle with a carrier case, much like our hounds use for carrying correspondences. They all assume it has been on legitimate business, since it bears the Lion's mark. But I do not know of any foxes who are being employed as couriers." Lucy's voice was hushed.

When both her siblings shook their heads, Lucy continued, "Philip suggested I speak with the night guards and kitchen staff. Mr. Tumnus and I will start on that after lunch."

"Oh, Lucy, do be careful," Susan cautioned.

"Philip knows what we're doing," Edmund reminded her. "He wouldn't have suggested something that would be unduly dangerous."

"This from the boy and the horse about to ride off into unknown danger!" Susan's whispered response carried heat.

"Susan," Ed's voice hardened, "you need to calm down. We will be fine. Lucy will be fine. And Peter will be fine."

Susan drew a breath. "Sorry, Ed. You're right, of course. It's just too little sleep." She rested her head on his shoulder. "This armour is really not very comfortable."

The feeble jest broke the tension in the room.

"I'll bring that up with the Armourers," Edmund drawled.

"That can be your next campaign, after standardizing the quality of tea in Narnia," Lucy added.

Edmund drew away from the girls. "Naturally. I will be King Edmund, the Just, known throughout all the land as a fierce defender of tea quality. My retribution will be terrible and swift upon those who dare brew sub-par tea. Once my reputation is established, I shall move onto addressing the discomfort of armour, especially how it pulls ones hair when going over the head."

Susan and Lucy simultaneously raised an eyebrow.

"Never fear, my queenly sisters, I'll simply appeal to the High King for support in my quests." Edmund's voice wavered at the end.

"You will see him before you go?" Lucy asked.

"Yes, I am going there know. Susan and her friends are onto something with their dusty parchment." Edmund kissed both his sisters before waggling his eyebrows at Susan. "See if you can't find something about Narnian roads in all those scrolls, so I don't have to deal with the issue anymore?" And with an outlandish bow in their direction, he left the room.

"He'll succeed in finding Gastavon. We just have to help Peter, so he can pull Edmund's arse out of the proverbial fire."

"Lucy!" Susan was scandalized. "Where did you hear that?"

Lucy sniggered. "From Peter, of course, though he didn't know I was around."

Susan sighed and wrapped her arms around Lucy. "Yes, he'll be alright. Philip has enough sense for both of them."

"Horse Sense."

"Right. Shall we go find a way to get the boys out of trouble?"

—oo0O0oo—

"Peter?"

In the dim room, Edmund struggled to make out his brother in the twisted mess of sheets on the bed.

Leaning over, he shook Peter. "Wake up, Peter!"

Slowly, Peter's eyes opened. "Ed?"

"Yes; listen, Peter. You were right about their being a pattern in the attacks. They're radiating from the Glasswater Creek area. A water nymph confirms tracks matching those of the wolf that attacked you along the riverbank."

Peter licked his lips and blinked. "Ed? Why are you dressed?"

"Because it's daytime and most of us are awake," came the sarcastic answer. "Not to mention I look quite dashing."

Peter traced the Lion on his brother's tunic. "Aslan."

Realizing his brother was in no condition to be teased, Edmund took Peter's hand. "Yes, Peter, Aslan. I am riding out now, to stop the attacks. Lucy and Susan are taking care of things here at Cair."

"You're hurt."

"No, Peter, I'm fine."

"Take the girls and get out"

"Pete?"

"My fault. I'll stay. The blood is on my hands."

With a sudden ferocity that startled Edmund, Peter seized the front of his tunic. "Edmund. You must protect them. They'll die. They'll all die. You must get them out. Away from me. Promise me."

"Peter, I promise to protect them."

"Good." Peter fell back against the bed, eyes closed, releasing his hold on Edmund.

Shaken, Edmund leaned over and kissed his brother's brow. "Just sleep, Peter. It's alright."

Peter did not stir, already lost in sleep. As Edmund left the room, he thought he heard a soft "Aslan," but could not tell if it was a prayer or a curse.

—oo0O0oo—

Peter was in a dark place again. He was battling shadows, and his arms ached from the exertion of continually fighting with Rhindon. The shadows would sometimes find their mark, and he would feel the red hot burn of sliced flesh. But the wounds would heal. And he would continue to fight.

He was struggling to reach somewhere, something. Somewhere past the shadows. It was vital he reach his objective. He knew there was something at the end, something important.

For a moment Edmund had been here, but not here. His baby brother's voice had pulled him away from his endless quest. There had been gold on red, vibrant color after so much shadow. But Peter could no longer recall the shape, and the hues were fading.

There, the shadow was lessening. There was a clearing ahead.

With renewed energy, he pushed ahead.

Filtered light illuminated his goal. Lucy and Susan stood, bound to a stake in the ground. As he started toward them, a shaped moved from the shadows and drove a blade into Susan's narrow rib cage, toward her heart. Her mouth parted in surprise, and her dark eyes fastened on Peter's, even as he screamed her name. Time slowed and before Peter could take a step, the knife flicked again, slashing the form of his baby sister. Lucy's wide eyes found his, her freckles contrasting on her pale skin. Blood pooled on the ground as their tormentor slashed their bindings, and the girls dropped to the floor. The shadowed figure disappeared.

Finally reaching their side, Peter pulled Lucy into his lap, even while reaching out to Susan. Their blood flowed out of their bodies and onto Peter. Their skin grew cool. Their eyes remained fixed on him, even in their unblinking state.

Inarticulate in grief, Peter held the still forms of his sisters.

"Peter." Jerking his head to Susan's body, Peter saw no movement from her lips.

"Peter." Susan's voice called again.

Looking up, Peter saw his sister standing, holding Lucy's hand.

"Peter, it doesn't have to be this way," Susan told him. Walking toward him, through her mangled body on the ground, she held a hand out entreatingly.

"You can stop this, Peter. As High King of Narnia, you can prevent this from happening. We will show you where to go, what to do, to prevent this."

"Come on, Peter, pretty please," Lucy added her voice to the plea.

Nodding, Peter stood, abandoning the ruined bodies of his sister in exchange for these flowing images.

"You must travel in secret," Susan cautioned him. "You alone must save us. You cannot allow anyone to know."

Peter nodded again, and adjusted his sword in its sheath. He could do this. He, alone, would save his sisters. The flickers of gold at the edge of his vision had been washed away by the darkness and blood.

He followed his sisters as they led him through the night.

—oo0O0oo—

Author's note: Next up: Conspiracies, traitors and fauns, oh my! Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think. Next chapter should be up around Sunday or so. -Narelena


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are not mine. No infringement intended upon the property of C.S. Lewis, Disney, Walden Media, or anyone else involved.

Author's Note: All mistakes are that of the author. Thank you to all who reviewed.

New Poll: Please take a moment to participate in the poll found on the author's profile page. "For you as a reader, which day of the week is the best for new chapter updates?" Thank you!

Summary: A cunning new foe emerges, endangering Narnia and the Pevensiesiblings. When Peter is targeted, the Kings and Queens seek to unlock the mystery of the threat in time to save what is precious.

—oo0O0oo—

Chapter 5, Smoke and Mirrors

"Alright, now pour the sand around us, as the sun crosses the sky," Meletra's voice was soft in the semi-darkness of the hidden room. She and Yavetfaced each other as five candles burned around them. Susan was torn between hysterical disbelief and desperate hope.

The quartet had been searching for a spell to reveal traces of magic since Edmund had left that afternoon. Susan wondered at the hour, knowing Lucy had been asleep before she was able to return to the others, and that was some time ago now.

She watched as Mrs. Beaver encircled the fauns with sand from the beaches below Cair Paravel.

"There it is, dears; you're ready." Mrs. Beaver stepped back to join Susan and Rochella.

Meletra and Yavet each extended their right palms, side by side. Together, their voices blending to one, they intoned:

"By shadowed veil and whispered smoke,  
Thy seek to cover and to cloak.

True reflections in the mirror,  
Allow the masks to disappear.

Deep Magic's Traces:  
Reveal thy hidden faces!"

Violent wind whipped around the gathered women, pages scattering. With a last, forceful surge, the winds twisted along the sand line, creating a vortex that reached the ceiling. As suddenly as it had begun, the wind rushed upwards, extinguishing the candles.

The flint Mrs. Beaver struck to relight a candle echoed in the following silence.

"Are you two alright?" Rochella asked as Susan went to help the exhausted fauns to nearby chairs.

Face pale, Meletra nodded. Yavet grateful accepted the tea Mrs. Beaver offered.

"When will we know if it was successful?" Susan felt as though she was bursting with energy, though whether it was an aftereffect of the spell or from too long with little sleep was unknown.

"As far as I can determine, the spell takes effect with the next sunrise," Rochella told her. "So we should know in the next few hours."

Meletra let out a bone-cracking yawn. Susan idly realized she'd never seen a faun yawn before. _This is how Ed ends up thinking about tea,_ she told herself.

"Well, I think we've done all we can for now." Susan looked at her companions gravely. "Regardless of the outcome, I thank you for all of your work and sacrifices."

Mrs. Beaver waved a small paw. "Think nothing of it, Queen Susan. It is an honor."

Rochella bobbed her head in assent. "Yavet and Meletra will feel better after rest and refreshment."

"You have accommodations in Cair already?" Susan asked, ready to make arrangements.

"Yes, thank you, we are taken care of," Meletra leaned her head in her hands.

"Let's get some rest," Susan's tired voice belonged to a girl rather than a Queen. "We will all need to be sharp in the morning."

—oo0O0oo—

"Susan, wake up!"

"Susan, it's morning."

Susan felt as though she just put her head down. Forcing her eyes open, the pre-dawn light was coming in through the window. She was in her own room, not the central one she had told Lucy to sleep in the night before. With a start, she recalled the night's events.

"The spell!" Susan cried. "Lucy, we did the spell to reveal the traces of magic last night. It should work, assuming of course it does work, this morning."

Lucy's eyes grew large. "What will happen? Mr. Tumnus and the others are watching for a fox to leave by one of the kitchen exits. Will they be able to see the spell, too?"

Splashing water from a basin on her face, Susan answered, "I don't exactly know. The spell is supposed to reveal the magic, but it didn't say how."

"Perhaps it makes them glow or stand out, like the opposite of a chameleon," Lucy thought aloud, handing her older sister a gown from the wardrobe.

Pausing in the lacing of her dress, Susan stared. "Do they have chameleons here in Narnia?"

Lucy was spared from answering by a sharp knock at the door.

"Queen Susan, come quickly please. The courtyard outside the kitchens—something's amiss!" The voice of one of Susan's attendants came from the hall. Lucy opened the door so hastily the maid nearly toppled over. "Queen Lucy, too!" she added.

As the Queens reached the courtyard, a path opened through the crowd, revealing a furious Mr. Tumnus, a number of the Narnian guards and a loud rooster.

Pitching her voice to carry, Queen Susan demanded, "What in Aslan's name is going on here?"

The commotion died away instantly. Sammesun wordlessly joined them at the edge of the crowd.

"Captain Veddan, please organize your unit and bring whomever it is you are holding forward," Sammesun commanded. The cluster of armoured fauns jostled momentarily, before assembling itself. Firmly gripped between two guard members was a fox.

Sammesun drew a breath, but Lucy was faster, "Mr. Tumnus, Captain Veddan, please explain this."

The two fauns exchanged glances before Captain Veddan nodded to Mr. Tumnus, who straightened his scarf. As he did, scratches on his arms became apparent.

"Queens Lucy and Susan," he began, "this creature was caught sneaking about the kitchens earlier. When he was approached by this rooster and asked about his business, the fox made to escape through that hole in the wall. Alarmed, the rooster cried out, and I came to his aid. I arrived in time to catch his hind legs, and though he put up quite a fight, I managed to detain him. At that time, Captain Veddan appeared." Mr. Tumnus finished his account formally, as though one of the guard members.

"Do you have anything to add, Mr. Rooster?" Sammesun inquired.

"Caado, please," the Rooster said. "As Mr. Tumnus said, I merely called out to the fox, for it is unusual to see any in this area before I greet the sun. Ah, yes, excuse me."

And with that, he let out another ear-splitting _cock-ca-doodle-do_, for the sun had made it last assent to fully reach above the palace walls. In that moment, the fox began to pulsate, as though with light. A breath later, the fox flickered with a dual image, one of the fox as he looked in the morning light and one as a shadow.

Sensing something amiss, the fox redoubled his efforts to break free.

"Your Majesties, I have done nothing wrong," he pleaded. "I was out early, yes, but I am nocturnal in nature. The rooster startled me; it is just a misunderstanding." The fox's tone had smoothed.

"Mr. Rotarit," Queen Susan said sharply, "kindly cease your struggles and hold your tongue."

"Captain Veddan, please tell us what you found," Sammesun continued stoically, though he kept giving Rotarit double glances.

"Mr. Tumnus and the fox, Rotarit, were engaged in a…dispute. We drew the two parties apart and subdued the fox; Mr. Tumnus settled down quickly, though the fox continued to fight. That is when Their Majesties arrived," Captain Veddanstared ahead as he gave his report.

"Also, he was carrying this," Captain Veddan added, holding out a bit of parchment.

Susan accepted the paper and read it before showing it to Sammesun.

Sammesun growled, "Rotarit, you are hereby detained for questioning in the matter of possession of unauthorized Narnian Crown Orders and resisting the guard."

The crowd's murmur was cut short by Queen Susan adding, "In addition, you are under suspicion of practicing and concealing magic used against Narnia and its Kings and Queens."

Rotarit's indignant look was replaced by one of fear.

"Please escort Rotaritto the Lesser Audience Hall and hold him there. We shall reconvene in half a mark's time to further discuss these grave matters. Everyone else, please, attend your duties as usual." Queen Susan's words worked to dispel the crowd.

In an undertone to Sammesun, "Send someone to assemble the council, quickly. You knew of the plan for false military orders and that Lucy has been searching for information, but I must tell of what I have been working."

Queen Susan and Sammesunleft the courtyard, rapidly conversing. The guards managed a more submissive Rotarit back into Cair Paravel; Lucy walked over to Mr. Tumnus.

"Are you hurt badly?" Lucy asked, placing her hand on the fuan's arm.

Mr. Tumnus shook his head, "No, though I suspect I am still too angry to notice."

"You were wonderful, to catch him," Lucy told her friend. "Susan's spell worked too; that's the shadow you saw. Susan and some others found a spell to reveal magic."

Mr. Tumnus's mouth parted in an "o" of astonishment. "A spell?"

Lucy nodded.

"Queen Lucy," he said urgently, "there may be others. We need to spread the word about that shadow."

"I should've thought of that!" Lucy groaned, gathering her skirts. With a look of mutual understanding, both hasten to spread the word to their trusted contacts.

—oo0O0oo—

"I wish Ed were here," Susan told Lucy. "He's really much better at this sort of thing."

Lucy watched her sister twist her skirts. "Should we wake Peter?"

Susan paused mid-motion, considering. "No," she said, resuming her nervous movement. "No, Peter needs to rest. Besides, I'm not sure he'd be a lot of help right now."

"I'm going to give Peter the cordial, now." Lucy's face was set.

"I agree, but immediately after the audience," Susan said. "You know we agreed on two of us for treason hearings, unless there's an emergency?"

"This doesn't count as an emergency? It'll only take a moment or two-"

The Queens' hurried conversation was interrupted by a centaur signally them.

"Immediately after, Lucy, I promise." Susan smoothed her skirts and walked to the door. "This won't take long, I fear."

Together, the Queens entered at the sound of a herald, moving gracefully toward the chairs at the front. Joining Sammesun and Ignicus, Oreius's second-in-command, the sisters faced the assembly.

"In Alsan's name, you have been accused of conspiracy against the Narnian Throne, illegal possession of Crown Orders with intent to use this information against Narnia, abuse of your position as Councilmember, injuring members of the Narnian Guard, and evading representatives of the Throne. In addition, you are held on suspicion of the use of magic against Narnia and its inhabitants. How do you plead, Fox Rotarit?" Susan recited the list from the parchment, much as Edmund had done just two days ago.

Rotarit smiled. "Queen Susan, I am but a humble servant to Narnia."

"In light of your denial of the charges against you, the assembled council and Queens will hear testimony from involved parties. After this, you may explain your actions and add information as necessary." Susan inwardly grimaced at the thought of doing this without Edmund or Peter.

Efficiently and directly, Susan called each witness, and under an Oath to Aslanfor truth, they gave their testimonies. Captain Veddan told the events of the morning, as did Caado Rooster. Mr. Tumnus recounted not only his encounter with Rotarit, but also the conversations leading up to his suspicion; Lucy was also called upon to contribute. Sammesun described his role in the events, including the scenes in the Queen's rooms and threats the four siblings had received.

Rotarit remained unconcerned. "The evidence is entirely circumstantial, your Majesties. And you imply I am connected with the foul creature threatening you? That is preposterous; I am a member of this Council. As such, I am also privy to Orders from the Crown. I remain resolute in my innocence." Rotarit's note of indignity was clear.

"I have one final thing to add." Susan's voice was strong. "But first, I must explain."

Susan, with assistance from Mrs. Beaver and Rochella, relayed the search for and performance of a spell to reveal magic traces. Susan did not, however, tell of her suspicion of an enchantment on Peter.

"In conclusion, the odd images you all think you are seeing, one of shadow, are true. Rotarit, you are linked to Gastavon."

Slowly, the faces around Rotarit hardened, skepticism giving way to revulsion.

"Do you have anything else to say in your defense?" Queen Susan asked.

Rotarit, for the first time, appeared nervous. "I have never practiced magic."

When he offered nothing further, Susan said, "By Aslan's name, I proclaim you, Rotarit Fox, guilty of all crimes. Does the Council contest this decision?"

A brief conference, then an aged bear answered, "No, the Council upholds the Monarch's decision."

"Consider carefully, Rotarit, for you hold your fate in your paws," Queen Susan continued. "Answer our questions truthfully and aid Narnia, and your cooperation will be rewarded."

A side door opened, and a badger made his way to Lucy. After a huddled conversation, Lucy nodded and straightened. The main door opened and a female faun was escorted in by two of the Narnian guards. She looked terrified; she also flickered between shadow shape and true colors.

"And then we found her in a cellar, Your Majesties," the guard finished. "We brought her here, to Queen Lucy, on account of it being her idea and all."

Head spinning from this turn of events, Susan fought to order her thoughts. "We shall see to her after we are finished here, though it might be useful to let her to hear this. Please allow her to sit."

Queen Susan returned her attention to the fox. Apparently, the elapsed time allowed Rotarit to consider the Queen's offer, for without prompting, he began talking.

"Queen Susan, I never preformed magic. The one who does can be found at Rainna Ansla, in the mountains near Glasswater. He wants the throne, your majesties; he thinks a proper creature should rule Narnia, not a human." The words tumbled out of the fox's mouth.

"He will do anything to gain Narnia, but will not risk open war. He is so convincing; I believed he would be better for Narnia. He performs the magic—I just gave him information and a few things. I made no deliveries."

"Please," a broken, sobbing voice said. "Please. I didn't know—he threatened me, told me I had to do things, and if I did not he _made_ me do them. He was inside my mind!"

All heads turned toward the faun.

"He will use illusions and lies to get what he wants. Gast--" The last word was abruptly cut off. Rotarit's mouth opened but no sound emerged; he dropped to the floor. A startled guard's cry told them the faun suffered a similar fate.

Lucy made a noise of despair and her hand covered her mouth. Susan swallowed thickly, and many of the council members looked ill.

"The session for Rotarit Fox is concluded. Those assembled are dismissed." Susan's voice was quiet, but all heard her.

"I will sort this out, my Queens," Sammesun told them before taking action.

"General Ignicus, please send a messenger dryad to King Edmund and General Oreius. Have them target Rainna Ansla and rid us of this unspeakable enemy." Ignicus bowed his head at Susan and left.

"Susan, we must go now." Lucy was already halfway out of the door. Susan followed her, heart heavy.

—oo0O0oo—

"Didn't Edmund have guards posted?" Lucy asked as they approached the door to the room Peter had been given.

Face paling, Susan nodded. Lucy bit her lip and went to open the door.

"Maybe we should call for a guard," Susan started, but Lucy had already gone into the room.

"Peter?" Lucy called out softly, approaching the bed. "Peter, are you awake?"

But drawing back the covers revealed nothing.

"Susan, he's not here!"

"He could be in the bathing chamber," Susan offered, knocking on the door. When she got no answer, she went to open it.

"It won't open." Susan grunted as she threw her weight against it. "It's as though something is against it."

The door opened part way, and Susan peered around it. "Lucy! Lucy get a healer, the guards are back here, tied up. I think they've been knocked unconscious."

Lucy turned to find help, only to run into a healer coming in the room. "Have you seen Peter?"

The healer blinked. "Not since yesterday when I checked on him just after supper."

"Lucy!" Susan's impatient cry brought Lucy back to the immediate problem.

"Go and fetch the guards and find Sammesun. He should be in the Lesser Hall," Lucy's uncharacteristic shout had the healer out the door.

"Lucy, I need a healer here," Susan moaned.

"Move aside," Lucy told her sister. "I am a healer." And unfastening her cordial she gave them each a drop before cutting their bonds.

They revived with a start, each talking over the other. "My Queen, I was taken from behind. I don't know what happened; the door opened, and I was hit. Begging your pardon, but High King Peter was the only one in the room."

Exchanging a look, the Queens helped the guards to their feet.

"These guards were attacked, then gagged and bound. King Peter is not in here," Lucy summarized for Sammesun when he arrived. "We must find him."

Sammesun immediately began organizing the search. Lucy and Susan drew close to each other.

"Susan," Lucy whispered. "If Peter were taken, would he have been able to take Rhindon?"

Susan looked at her. "Why do you ask?"

"Because it also is missing."

—oo0O0oo—

The non-talking horse Peter rode was not as good a mount as he had grown accustomed too, but the mare was young and resilient. She did not seem to be bothered by the added weight of Lucy in front of him and Susan behind.

Peter let Lucy guide their path through the darkened countryside. He was not particularly concerned with their progress since Susan told him they were getting closer.

The sun was just clearing the horizon when they forded the Glasswater.

"There, in the mountains, is where you can save us," Susan told him, pointing ahead.

Peter nodded and encouraged the tired mount toward the rocks.

"Leave the horse here and follow us on foot." Lucy smiled charmingly at him.

With a final pat of thanks to the horse, Peter followed Lucy and Susan into the shadows of the mountain.

"What is this place?" Peter asked.

"You'll see, but you must hurry, Peter." Susan was ahead of him, and Lucy ahead of her.

"Wait!" Peter scrambled over rocks as he climbed after his sisters.

"Hurry up!" Lucy's voice floated back to him.

Peter could no longer see his sisters, but followed their voices into a break in the mountain face. He would catch up to them. He would save them.

—oo0O0oo—

Author's note: Next chapter: everything comes to a head, or a hoof, depending on whom you ask. Let me know what you think, and remember the poll! Thanks for reading! -Narelena


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are not mine. No infringement intended upon the property of C.S. Lewis, Disney, Walden Media, or anyone else involved.

Author's Note: All mistakes are that of the author. Thank you to all who reviewed.

Summary: A cunning new foe emerges, endangering Narnia and the Pevensie siblings. When Peter is targeted, the Kings and Queens seek to unlock the mystery of the threat in time to save what is precious.

—oo0O0oo—

Chapter 6, Smoke and Mirrors

Peter had lost sight of his sisters as he followed the twisting passages deeper into mountain. Holding an unsheathed Rhindon in his hand, he entered a better-lit tunnel that soon broadened into an opening almost as large as the Throne Room at Cair Paravel.

Searching for the girls, he noticed the room had tables along the sides, sconces on the walls, urns, chests and large carved chairs. In short, the room looked remarkably well lived-in for being inside of a mountain.

"Peter," Susan said, standing by the largest chair in the room. "I'm glad you found us."

"Yes, Peter," Lucy added, "I was afraid you would not be able to save us."

"I would always come for you," Peter swore fiercely. "I would do anything to save you."

"Good," said Susan. Peter continued to walk the length of the chamber toward his sisters.

"All you have to do is lay Rhindon on the table and promise to let anyone into Cair," Susan told him. "Let someone else rule Narnia so that we can just be a family. You can protect us then."

"You didn't want to be a king," Lucy continued. "We just wanted Edmund back. We have that, so now we can leave."

Peter slowed his walk, considering the words. Susan gestured toward the table. "Just come a bit closer, and you'll be able to put your sword down."

"Come take my hand, Peter," Lucy spoke, holding her hand out. "Pretty please!"

Peter looked from the blade in his hand to the table. The already familiar leather creaked under his hand. He caught his reflection in an unpolished mirror to the side. The crimson and gold of his tunic flashed unexpectedly bright, and a lion's roar filled his ears.

Glancing at Lucy to see if she'd heard it as well, Peter was shocked to find that she was no longer there. Neither was Susan. In Lucy's place was a robed creature, gnarled hand held out entreatingly. The torches on the wall spluttered momentarily, and the image was gone. His sisters reappeared, Lucy looking impatient. "Come on!"

Peter took a step backward. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades.

"Peter, don't be ridiculous," Susan insisted.

Peter took another step back. "Peter!" Susan screamed. Her hands closed around her midsection, a dagger suddenly protruding from her dress. Blood flowed between her fingers. "Peter, save Lucy!"

Peter took a step forward.

—oo0O0oo—

"King Edmund," Orieus said as he surveyed the mountains from where they'd halted. "Does that appear to be an opening?"

Edmund looked in the direction Orieus pointed. "Send a scout to investigate."

After the dryad from Ignicus and the Queens had reached them, Edmund's company had hastened to the Glasswater. When a second dryad had carried news of a missing High King, Edmund had all but run across the countryside himself. As it was, Phillip was exhausted.

A hawk had spotted the lone, saddled horse; Phillip confirmed the mare tethered to a tree as one from Cair Paravel's outer pastures. Now they were stopped at the foot of the mountain, searching for any indication of where the rider may have gone.

"Your Majesty," said the scout, "there is indeed an entrance that looks to extend some way. Also, there is a set of booted footprints."

Edmund nodded. "Very well, we will proceed." The younger king hesitated before asking, "Oreius, uh, will the terrain be a problem?"

Oreius gifted his king with a superior look. "I am sure I will manage," he said dryly.

Philip whickered a laugh at Edmund. "What did you expect?"

"Fine, but I'm dismounting until we get up there," Edmund told his mount. "And once we're inside, no banging my head against a ceiling you just 'didn't happen to think' was so low."

Giving the king an affronted look, Philip began to find his way up the mountain.

—oo0O0oo—

Edmund motioned for the bobcat to scout ahead. Following the one set of booted footprints had not been especially difficult thus far, but the mountain was proving to have a dizzying array of blind curves and offshoots from the main passageway. Passageways that tracks indicated were not abandoned.

They had left a small guard at the entrance, and the less stealthy members, Philip included, brought up the rear of Edmund's company.

The bobcat returned and indicated all clear. The troop started forward again, noticing increased numbers of tracks along the way.

It wasn't long before the scout returned with word of armed creatures ahead and noise from a passage the booted prints had not followed.

Quickly making a decision, Edmund sent two members to subdue the presumed guards and indicated they would not veer from their course. He did send a scout to investigate under explicit instructions to not be seen. Squinting in the low light, Edmund thought, _why do I have the feeling I'm surrounding myself with foes of extremely low tea standards?_

They encountered, and dealt with, four more guards before emerging into a larger section with oil-burning pots. The scouts he had sent to investigate the noises returned.

"Armed troops," the snake hissed. "More than forty that I could sense including wolves, minotaurs, a bear, and assorted other creatures I couldn't make out."

Edmund nodded his thanks. _More than forty, at our backs,_ Edmund's inner voice chattered at him, _poor odds, close fighting quarters, and unknown other foes. Great. Peter, I'm going to insist on a holiday after all this_. Edmund staunchly ignored his increasing fear over his brother's fate.

Moments later the great cat scout returned, eyes wide. "I could hear King Peter's voice and another. The next curve is heavily guarded, and I detect more beyond."

For a second, Edmund's heart stopped and his stomach dropped.

An indrawn breath and he regained his equilibrium.

Signaling the other, he dropped into an offensive crouch. The others assumed position; they would flank the guards, using the shadows as cover. If that failed, and in tight quarters it probably would, the heavier fighters would rush the guards directly. Above all else, they were to secure the king.

Edmund pushed aside worry that their actions would end in Peter's death.

—oo0O0oo—

Peter took another step forward toward Susan, but found he couldn't move.

"Hurry, Peter," Lucy called, looking frightened. "Put down your sword."

Peter wanted to go to his sisters and protect them, not put Rhindon out of reach. He was failing to save them. Susan was injured and Lucy was in danger. How could he save them by letting someone else into Cair?

_They are in danger as Kings and Queens of Narnia,_ a voice inside his head reasoned. _They will not be in danger if you no longer rule Narnia. They will be safe_.

Without a conscious effort, Peter found himself extending Rhindon toward the table.

_Safe_. They would all be safe. Lucy's arm reached for his.

—oo0O0oo—

"Peter!" Edmund shouted to his brother, watching in horror as his brother drew closer to the heinous creature.

"Peter, he's trying to trick you! Whatever you think he's doing isn't real!" Peter gave no indication he even heard his brother.

Cursing, Edmund killed his opponent and started toward his brother. His path was blocked immediately, and he dodged a blow to his head. Retaliating with a dagger thrust to an unprotected side, Edmund search for a way to help Peter.

The Narnian troops had been surrounded after a guard had managed to blow a signal horn, and the ensuing chaos was making it difficult to see friend from foe.

Turning at a sound from behind, he saw his would-be attacker trampled by a flurry of hooves. Philip slowed in his rampage long enough for Edmund to swing himself into the saddle before barreling his way though the melee toward Peter.

Edmund watched Peter seemed to fight with himself as he set Rhindon on the table. The dark creature was now close enough to Peter to grasp the young king's wrist.

Just as the creature was about to contact Peter, Edmund swung his body over the side of the saddle. Using Philip's momentum, Edmund collided with the creature.

The two bodies rolled, each trying to find purchase on the other. Edmund found himself pinned; his opponent was considerably heavier despite being the same size.

"Gastavon." Edmund spit the name out, trying to keep talon-like fingers from closing around his neck.

The hood had fallen back, revealing a strangely aquiline face. "I'm honored, Spawn of Adam." The creature's features were wild with an unnatural craze.

"You interrupted. So inconsiderate. And I had finally figured out what makes your brother tick."

One hand was now against Edmund's throat. Blood dribbled down his face onto Gastavon's hand.

"I've been patiently picking the lock. You just have to find all the pins. Attacking worthless creatures, sending messages and stealing from under his nose. Those just made him angry. I was going to start burning the trees when I had an epiphany."

Gastavon's hand tightened as Edmund's attempts to writhe away became more desperate.

"It was in the blood, you could say. You humans and your pathetic minds; you are so easily manipulated by your worst nightmares."

Edmund freed a hand and jabbed it viciously into a black eye, feeling an unpleasant give beneath his finger. Gastavon screamed and jerked back. Edmund scrambled to his feet, pulling out a dagger. He could see his sword, lost in the tumble, at Gastavon's feet.

Edmund advanced on the creature, feinting to confuse Gastavon. Edmund brought the dagger up on the blind side, intending to strike the creature down.

Edmund's fatal blow faltered as the face of his younger sister looked up at him. Lucy's wide eyes watched him. "What are you doing here, Edmund?"

Transfixed, Edmund lowered his hand. Then the sound of metal pierced through the air, and a sword cut through her neck. As she fell, the image reverted to a black robed creature. The body hit the floor with a solid thud. An amber disc on a copper chain half-emerged from the robes.

For a moment, it seemed to Edmund as if the world held its breath. He stared at Peter, who still held Rhindon in the end position of the cut.

Then Rhindon crashed to the ground, Peter next to it, clutching his head and screaming in agony.

A silver-white mist was flowing with increasing speed from Gastavon's body into Peter.

Terrified, Edmund knelt next to his brother. He put his arms around Peter in an attempt to shield him from this inexplicable danger.

Edmund watched, mute with terror, as blood began to flow from Peter's nose and ears.

A thunderous noise and hooves shook the ground. Edmund could not see what was happening over the ever-thickening mist around his brother. Peter's screams had become a soul-wrenching keen.

As suddenly and violently as the mist had appeared, it vanished. Peter became silent and still in Edmund's arms.

"Pete," Edmund choked out. Edmund forced himself to focus beyond the blood pounding in his head. Peter's chest rose and fell under his tunic. Edmund abruptly sat back, pulling Peter with him.

"Edmund?" Philip asked. Unable to say anything, Edmund nodded.

"Gastavon's followers are either dead or fleeing," Orieus told Edmund. "I have sent several off in pursuit. The others are securing the area or attending to the wounded."

Edmund blinked, glad he wasn't required to give any orders immediately. He looked at Gastavon's body. It appeared trampled. Finally he asked, "What was that?"

Philip and Oreius traded glances. Edmund thought the Narnian general looked chagrinned.

"The body was the source of the, uh, threat to King Peter. I believe Oreius and I both came to the conclusion that it was perhaps not entirely…disposed of," Philip said.

Oreius seemed to compose himself. "The…incident…stopped when the amulet was smashed."

Edmund reached over to gather the talisman. "King Edmund," Oreius objected, clearly not willing to risk another king's safety.

Edmund turned the disc over. From inside the broken amber, he pulled a strip of cloth stained with blood.

"It's Peter's," Edmund said dully. "The shirt he wore the day he was attack—parts of it were torn off. I didn't think anything of it."

Edmund crushed the fabric. "That's what he meant, 'it's in the blood'. That's how Gastavon was able to get to Peter."

Edmund ran a hand over his face, looking at it as it came away bloody.

"That's how he got to me."

—oo0O0oo—

A short time later, the entire group was camped in the entry of the cavern. From his place next to Peter, Edmund could see just see the stars through the smoke from the fire.

A faun with some healing experience had examined both kings; aside from obvious scrapes and bruises, both were fine. Except Peter remained unconscious.

Unable to do anything else, they had made the High King comfortable; Edmund had refused to move from his brother's side.

"This tea is acceptable, given the circumstances," Edmund spoke, "but really Mrs. Beaver could do better with one paw tied behind her back and a broken pot."

He glanced at Peter, but as expected, got no response.

"King Edmund," Oreius said, "a dryad is approaching."

Edmund looked up to see an organized swirl of leaves take form.

"My king," the dryad's voice was a low pitch, "the Queens Susan and Lucy send their relief at hearing of your success. Queen Lucy is prepared to leave immediately to care for any injured."

Edmund considered his sleeping brother. Peter wasn't in distress, and the faun could find nothing wrong. Then again, that is what the healers had said back at Cair. But the thought of Lucy making such a ride at night, when not all of Gastavon's supporters had been caught, terrified Edmund. The memory of his sister's neck being pierced by a sword was too fresh.

"Tell her tomorrow morning will be soon enough," Edmund told the dryad, glad that none of the wounded needed Lucy's cordial immediately. The leaves rustled, and Edmund got the impression the dryad had raised a leafy eyebrow at him. Edmund stared the dryad down. With a bow and swirl, the leaves were carried off by the wind.

Edmund felt Oreius's gaze. "It's not worth the risk of Lucy riding through the night to get here," he answered the unspoken question.

Oreius nodded and moved away.

Edmund stretched out his legs, leaning back against the rocky wall near his brother's head. He finished his tea before dozing off, one hand on the comforting rise and fall of his older brother's chest.

—oo0O0oo—

Peter slowly became aware of things around him. He could smell the fire and hear the buzz of insects; somewhere an owl hooted. Someone's hand was on his chest, but it was familiar. Eventually, his eyes opened.

The fire was low, burning itself out. Peter could make out the silhouette of a centaur. Taking a deep breath, Peter realized he had had the first true, dreamless sleep in days.

His head ached abominably, and awareness of the events of the past few days entered his consciousness. He let out an involuntary sound.

The hand on his chest moved; he followed the arm up to see the face of his little brother.

Edmund's eyes snapped open. Replicating the day's earlier events, they stared at each other.

Peter licked dry lips and said, "So, Ed, how's the tea?"

Edmund stared a moment longer before shakily responding, "It's been better, but it'll do."

And then Peter found himself being fiercely embraced. "I want a holiday with lots of outstanding tea." Peter smiled at Edmund's request.

"Gastavon is dead." Peter's tone was half statement, half question.

Edmund nodded. "Yeah. And the girls are fine, safe at Cair."

Peter closed his eyes and slowly released a breath. _Fine, they're fine…it was just a trick_.

"What happened?" Both brothers asked the question simultaneously.

"Gastavon was using magic to make you see things, to lead you here. He had your blood from the shirt you wore the day the wolf attacked you." Edmund paused. "Susan figured out about the magic, with a little help. The girls uncovered the palace traitors, all tainted with Gastavon's magic. I'm not sure how they did that, yet. Anyway, somehow the girls found out where Gastavon was, and we came."

Peter's mind was still working on the magic part. "Gastavon put a spell on me to make me see and hear things that weren't really there," he said slowly.

"Apparently, that was his specialty," Edmund spoke bitterly.

"Lucy and Susan led me here. Or I suppose fake images did. I saw them die. They told me I could save them, and I followed them here." Peter swallowed, the awfulness of the scene still with him.

"They wanted me to put down Rhidon," Peter continued, glancing at the sword thoughtfully placed within reach, "and Lucy wanted me to take her hand."

"I kept shouting at you, but you didn't hear me," Edmund offered.

"I saw Aslan, I think, and it made me see Gastavon and not Lucy. But then Susan got hurt." Peter's throat closed.

"It wasn't real, Pete," Edmund said. "I know it seemed real, but they're fine."

Peter nodded and drew an unsteady breath. "Then you came, and for a second I could see Gastavon again. I didn't know what was real; I wasn't even sure you were there."

"But I had figured out something was wrong. Lucy would never give up Narnia and never go against Aslan." Peter looked into the embers of the fire, rather than risk looking at Edmund.

"But it looked so real," Edmund's voice was barely a whisper.

Peter jerked his head to look at his brother. "I saw her, too, just as I was going to kill Gastavon. He used my blood from the fight, I guess, to cast the illusion on me. And then you-"

Peter's pained gaze held Edmund's. "And then I killed her."

"You killed Gastavon."

"I didn't know that. I still saw Lucy. It didn't move like Lucy, but it looked like her."

"You saved my life."

Peter looked at his brother. "I could have chosen wrong."

"But you _knew_, Peter. In the end, you knew." Peter shook his head, blinking against the tears.

Edmund pulled his brother against him. For a long time, they stayed that way, each seeking comfort, each hiding tears in the darkness.

Finally, Edmund pulled away enough to say, "You knew, Pete. You knew that Lucy would never get herself into so much trouble she'd need her arse pulled out of the proverbial fire. That's what brothers do."

—oo0O0oo—

Author's note: Final installment: Everyone still has a few questions and a few issues to work through… Thanks for reading! -Narelena


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are not mine. No infringement intended upon the property of C.S. Lewis, Disney, Walden Media, or anyone else involved.

Author's Note: All mistakes are that of the author. Thank you to all who reviewed.

Summary: A cunning new foe emerges, endangering Narnia and the Pevensie siblings. When Peter is targeted, the Kings and Queens seek to unlock the mystery of the threat in time to save what is precious.

—oo0O0oo—

Chapter 7, Smoke and Mirrors

Edmund's company met Lucy midmorning, halfway home to Cair Paravel. The sun reflected off her deep rust-colored cloak, surrounding her in a warm light. To Edmund, she looked blessedly whole and unmarked, just his little sister.

Edmund returned her enthusiastic wave with a raised hand. Looking at Peter, Edmund noted the tight jaw of his elder brother. Under tense hands, Peter's mount stamped nervously.

Philip had already stopped; sometimes, Edmund wondered who was riding whom.

Dismounting, Edmund tried to think of something to reassure Peter. Lucy had increased her pace, causing her escort to scramble to catch up.

"Why don't you get down, Pete?" Edmund sighed, disappointed in his lack of verbal intuition this morning.

His brother looked at him; Edmund wondered if Peter's head still ached. Not that he was going to ask (again). Right now, anyway. After a moment, Peter swung his leg over the saddle.

Edmund heard the tiny indrawn breath Peter made as Lucy hastily dismounted and ran the remaining distance to them. The younger boy put an unobtrusive hand on Peter's arm.

"Peter! Edmund!" Lucy's face was flushed, her smile wide. Utterly trusting, she threw herself at Peter.

And Peter's arms automatically went around the bundle of energy that didn't yet reach his chin.

Edmund watched as Peter breathed in the scent of their baby sister. The younger king released a breath he didn't know he was holding. A larger hand snagged his arm and pulled him into the embrace. Edmund closed his eyes; it would be okay.

—oo0O0oo—

Peter knew he was crushing Lucy, even without her muffled protest. He couldn't seem to make himself let her go. He savored the warmth of her body, the rise and fall of her chest, and the trust and love she freely gave. When Edmund pulled back, Peter forced himself to do likewise. He kept his hands on her shoulders, his eyes searching every inch of her.

Lucy drew a breath to say something, but seemed to change her mind. Edmund wasn't far enough away that Peter missed his frantic signal. Peter smiled to himself, wondering when Edmund would let him be the older brother again.

"Does anyone need my cordial?" Lucy asked, transforming from youngest sibling to Queen instantly.

"No, Lucy, I think we are fine," Edmund told her. "There is a faun who knows the extent of everyone's injuries. I believe, however, all are…stable." The brief hesitation in his voice was proof that not everyone was still alive.

Peter closed his eyes, a physical reaction to the overwhelming sense of guilt and grief. _And I know Edmund is editing his account of the last few days,_ Peter despaired, _how many more are dead?_ Peter recalled his attention to his siblings. Lucy smiled at him and took his hand. Memories of visions filled his mind. _Will I never be free of him, free to look upon my sisters without pain and fear?_

As though he sensed the inner turmoil, Edmund spoke, "I, for one, am looking forward to above average tea. No offense to the camp cook, but Cair is really a much more civilized place to enjoy a cup." He grinned winningly at his siblings. Lucy giggled, and Peter rolled his eyes.

"He hasn't stopped going on about it," Peter said in a stage whisper to Lucy. "He swears he is going to make a Narnian Tea Committee and send expeditions to find the perfect leaves."

"At least then we could send him on such an errand, and he can cease prattling on."

Three human heads turned to stare at Philip, long since forgotten.

"I don't need to stand here and be insulted," Edmund huffed.

"No, you could get on before I decide to leave you here." Philip's retort stole whatever comeback Edmund had been planning. Grumbling, Edmund climbed back into the saddle.

"This way I can insult you on the run."

Peter hadn't known it was possible for a horse to achieve such smug inflection in his voice. As it were, he nudged his own mount after his brother. For a moment, with Lucy's laughter and Ed's banter, it was possible to believe the nightmare was over.

—oo0O0oo—

Cair Paravel had never looked so radiant. _Radiant_, Edmund snorted to himself, _since when did I start adding radiant to my vocabulary_. Still, the white stonewalls gleamed in the midday sun, and the banners flapped in the sea breeze. To Edmund, it looked like home.

Lucy's seemingly endless stream of idle chatter finally dried up as they approached the castle. Peter had been uncharacteristically quiet during the ride. He only made one reference to the events Lucy had been steering clear of and had breathed a sigh of relief upon Lucy's news that his guards were unharmed. After that, Lucy had dominated the conversation.

As they neared Cair, Edmund became aware of cheering. Squinting against the light, he could just make out the inhabitants of Cair. It looked as if the entire castle and all of the surrounding area had turned out to welcome them home. _So much for a quiet entrance_, Edmund groaned silently to himself.

Glancing at his brother, Edmund watched as a host of emotions crossed Peter's face. In moments, Peter had transformed from exhausted, tortured brother to calm, confident High King. _Peter, King of Repressed Emotions, _Edmund thought, _maybe that's why he's the high king_.

Following his brother's example, Edmund straightened in his saddle, wishing (not for the first time) that he were taller. Without conference, Lucy and Edmund rearranged themselves so they flanked their older brother.

"What are you doing?" Edmund asked, looking down between Philip's ears. Philip was engrossed in communicating with the other horses, matching their steps together.

"Making us look good, even if these children insist on being difficult." Philip lipped Peter's mount. Lucy's was already preening in anticipation of the attention.

Unable to think of something to say, Edmund shrugged and focused on keeping his seat. Within minutes, they were climbing the main road toward Cair. It was slow going thanks to crowded street just wide enough to pass through three abreast. Lucy smiled and waved, calling to those she knew. Peter rode confidently, looking regal and dignified. He gave no indication of the trials of the past days; no one would know he wasn't the picture of royal health. Edmund felt rather superfluous, not to mention gangly in the saddle. He fought the urge to fidget, scanning the crowd for threats.

Susan greeted them on the stairs to the castle. Possibly only Edmund noticed the strain around her eyes lessen when she saw them.

"Welcome home, Kings Peter and Edmund, Queen Lucy," Susan said formally. "Let all of Narnian rejoice in your safe return. Was your mission successful?"

"Queen Susan," Peter's voice filled the space as he spoke, "we joyously report the threat to Narnia has been eliminated. Though it was not without sacrifice, we are victorious, in Aslan's name."

"Then let us celebrate our good fortune and remember those who contributed to our triumph."

With that, Peter and Susan dismissed the cheering crowd. Peter thanked and dismissed General Oreius and his troops. Offering an arm to his eldest sister, Peter led them inside.

"How does he do that?" Lucy whispered to Edmund.

"I don't know; that's why he's the High King," was the equally soft response.

Edmund and Lucy found their older siblings in an antechamber to the Throne Room, clutching each other. Susan wasn't crying, quite, but she had seized two fistfuls of Peter's tunic. Peter was speaking too softly for Edmund to make out the words, but the high king looked up at their entrance.

Lucy pulled Edmund toward them, and he found himself in a four-way embrace. For a confusing second, Edmund thought he was back at the Battle of Beruna.

"Is the council assembled?" Peter asked after a long moment.

Susan nodded, pressing a hand to her flush cheeks. "Yes, in the Throne Room. As you can imagine, they are flustered by the recent events."

Edmund exchanged a glance with his brother. "Susan, tell us what happened here."

"What about what happened with you?" Lucy asked pointedly.

"Susan first; the council already knows your side. Ed and I need to be brought up to speed," Peter said definitively. "Summarize it, quickly, please."

Susan looked decidedly scattered. After two false starts, Lucy finally took over.

"Susan and Ms. Meletra, oh and Mrs. Beaver, you'll never guess what—sorry, Peter." Lucy's tangent trailed off. "Susan and the others did a spell to reveal traces of magic. It worked splendidly. Rotarit Fox and a palace faun were tainted with the magic. Oh, and Mr. Tumnus caught Mr. Rotarit with false military orders."

Lucy paused for a breath. Edmund told himself to be patient.

"Anyway, Susan and I, well mainly Susan, held a trial. Rotarit was guilty, but before he could be sentenced he was killed." Lucy's voice was soft and somber.

"How was he killed?" Peter voice was commanding.

"Magic. The faun was killed also," Lucy answered.

"Then we discovered you were missing, Peter." Susan had found her voice.

Edmund studied the faces around him. Susan looked shaken by the events, but seemed more unsettled by the necessity of wielding the power of the throne alone. Lucy's faith was strong as ever, despite her constant need to reassure herself of Peter's presence.

Peter's face was harder to read. Just as his face settled, indicating he had made a decision, the door opened.

"Your Majesties," the attendant spoke, "the council and many others have gathered in the Throne Room."

"Thank you," Peter spoke for them all. "We will be there shortly."

"It was a petition day before all this mess," Susan said. "Everyone was here anyway."

Edmund sighed to himself. Petitions meant more crowds than usual. Hopefully, Oreius and Sammesun had security under control.

"—do you?" Edmund realized he missed Peter's question.

Susan smiled fondly at him. "Yes, of course. Do you think I'd let you face all of Narnia looking like that?"

Susan picked up previously unnoticed bundles. Edmund barely had time to register an incoming projectile before he caught his. _Clean clothes_, Edmund's brain had just processed the new information. Susan tossed the other one to Peter.

"We'll be in the hall. Don't dawdle." With that, Susan swept out of the room, pulling Lucy in her wake.

For a moment, all Edmund could do was blink at his brother in the now empty room.

"I can't decide if she enjoyed being in charge, or hated every minute of it," Peter drawled.

Shrugging, Edmund pulled off his tunic. "She's a girl. It's impossible to tell."

Freshly clad, Edmund felt slightly more prepared for the impending audience. He watched Peter re-buckle Rhindon at his hip. Only someone who knew Peter as well as Edmund did would have caught the unsteady falter of the older boy's fingers.

"Let's get this over with," Peter said as he walked over to him. "Comparatively, it'll be a walk in the park, right?"

"As long as no one asks me about the Narnian road system," Edmund responded.

A smiled ghosted over Peter's face. "I can always ask you to expound upon tea quality. Everyone will be riveted and promptly forget about Gastavon."

Edmund noted that Peter's voice did not waver. "Be careful what you wish for, O Magnificent One."

Peter smiled fully as they joined their sisters. The doors to the Throne Room opened. Side by side, just as on their coronation day, the Kings and Queens of Narnia entered.

Surrounded by his siblings, Edmund finally lost the urge to fidget. Edmund the Just, King of Narnia, was home.

—oo0O0oo—

Peter stretched, listening to his spine realign itself. After the protracted session with the Council, court and petitioners (who, while unable to petition that day, stayed to hear the official account of recent events), Peter was finally in his own room. Naturally, so were his siblings.

Recounted the past few days events was relatively easy. As High King, Peter need only report simple facts, though that was largely left to Edmund, and praise the good deeds of everyone. Reassuring his people was second nature; the words were instinctive to him.

Recounting the past few days with nosey, overly concerned siblings was quite another matter.

Lucy had driven them to distraction, switching seats between Edmund and Peter. As it were, they had all ended up crammed onto a sofa.

"Alright, Susan," Edmund spoke as he juggled another cup of tea, "tell us what else you found about the spell…s." Peter was privately impressed by Ed's tea-consuming abilities.

"There were several accounts of various mind-controlling spells. It is impossible to know the extent, but the faun seemed genuine in her account of being forced to do things. I believe Rotarit had more free will," Susan told them.

"Regardless, Gastavon had enough control over them that their very life force was bound. That is how he was able to kill them from afar."

"Do you think the Hag was also under Gastavon's control?" Lucy asked.

It was Edmund who shook his head. "No, that doesn't make sense. Different method, different circumstances. The Hag committed suicide—probably considered herself a martyr. Also, the attempting to say Gastavon's name appears to have been a trigger."

"Is that the same spell he put on Peter?"

There was a pause. "No, Lucy. Or not exactly," Susan said finally. "Whatever he used on Peter was much more intricate and much more subtle."

Susan looked at the empty teacup in her hands. "Gastavon most likely used Succubi or Incubi on Peter. He had dreams even before the attack on the beach. Gastavon would have used them to gather information about Peter, to learn about him. Later, Gastavon used the blood from Peter's shirt to strengthen his control and weave the spell."

"He would have used it to alter Peter's perceptions. In time, he would have been able to control Peter."

"In time?" Peter's voice was derisive.

"Well, totally controlled. He still had to rely on illusions to coerce you. In the archives, it is mentioned that the victim must willing touch the sorcerer for the curse to be complete."

Peter looked at Edmund, horrified. "That's what he was trying to do. Gastavon, well Lucy, kept wanting me to take her, uh his, hand."

Lucy leaned her head against Peter's shoulder. Edmund finally voiced everyone's thought, "What would've happened?"

Susan looked as if she didn't want to answer. "The spell would have allowed Gastavon to control everything Peter did, even to the point of stopping his heart."

Peter fought the urge to relive his tea.

"He used the blood from Peter's shirt to weave the spell. But I touched him, well tackled him, and he had my blood. I saw the illusions, too. Why didn't he just, uh, finish me off?" Peter wanted to close his ears to the possibility Edmund was supposing.

"Complex enchantments take time, Edmund," Susan answered. "Gastavon was gifted with illusions. I presume he was able to include you in the spell because you and Peter are related. Your blood is as close to being the same as it can get without being identical twins."

Peter watched Edmund digest this. Feeling as though he were merely drawing out an unfortunate line of questioning, he asked, "And what happened after Gastavon was dead?"

Interestingly, it was Lucy who answered. "You were bound to Gastavon through that amulet. Gastavon would have invested a tremendous amount of himself in the spell, and thus in you. It only follows that when his life was threatened, he followed that connection to you."

Susan nodded. "As far as we can tell, he was trying to take over your life force. When the amulet was broken, so was the connection to you."

With that, it seemed there was nothing more to say. The siblings sat, each lost in private reflection, as the tea grew cool.

"I don't suppose I could send you lot away, can I?" Peter's wry voice pierced the silence.

Peter watched his siblings reactions, knowing what they would be even before they happened. Susan frowned, her lips opening to protest; Edmund straightened and lifted his chin brazenly. Lucy smiled at him. "You can't prevent bad things from happening, Peter. You can only deal with them as they happen."

Peter's eyes were hard as he looked at his baby sister. "Lucy, there are ways to take precautions and safeguard Narnia. And_ you_. It didn't take a genius to figure out my weakness." The last was said with a self-depreciating humor.

"No place is safe enough for your piece of mind, Pete," Edmund pointed out.

"Aslan needed all four of us to rule Narnia," Lucy ignored her brother's interjection. "Gastavon just went for the top."

Peter failed to return Lucy's hopeful smile. "Lucy, people died because of my inability to safeguard against my weaknesses."

"Peter," Edmund's voice commanded attention, "do you blame me and Oreius for the casualties in the cave?"

"Of course not, I know you were as prepared as you could be."

"Do you blame Susan for the death of the traitors?"

Peter narrowed his eyes, but shook his head.

"Do you blame Aslan for the White Witch's stone menagerie?"

"Ed, really, you're—"

"No! You are being ridiculous, Pete." Edmund's outburst effectively silenced his older brother.

"Put the blame where it belongs, objectively and without this brooding, self-destructive inner loop of pain."

"Inner loop of pain?" Susan echoed, an eyebrow arched.

Edmund shot his sister a look, but continued his tirade. "You cannot expect to be omniscient, nor can you believe that you will never be weak, or make a mistake, or be _human_. You might be High King, but you still are Peter. Aslan wouldn't expect anything else."

For a moment, Peter wondered if his brother was repeating some of what Aslan had told Edmund in private weeks ago.

"Yeah, Ed, that's my point," Peter's quiet reply stole the wind from Edmund's proverbial sails. "I am Peter, and that means I get to be the big brother. Protecting you all is the most important thing to me."

Edmund looked as though he was going to yell, but Susan spoke first, "We are protected, Peter. No place is perfectly safe, but risk is inherent to life."

"Ruling Narnia means more than 'inherent' risk," Peter retorted.

"Maybe, but we made our choice. If you cannot let us accept the risks, or the responsibilities, you are undermining our ability to rule with you. You have to trust us," Lucy said.

"I do trust you."

Lucy smiled again. "And we trust you. We love you. You cannot let fear guide your actions. Trust us to watch out for each other, as a family."

Peter's eyes were over-bright. "You weren't there, Lu. You didn't see what I saw. You didn't see what I _did_."

Lucy moved so she stood directly in front of her brother. "Peter, it's alright. You are forgiven. Let the blame fall on those truly responsible." Leaning over, she kissed Peter's forehead.

Receiving the impromptu benediction, Peter closed his eyes, the tears he desperately tried to confine falling down his cheeks.

—oo0O0oo—

"That bad?" Peter cocked his head at his younger brother.

Edmund favored his brother with a distained look, pulling at his sweat-soaked shirt and reaching for the water tankard.

"See how you look after an hour of one-on-one with the beast." Edmund's cantankerous retort was somewhat mitigated by his still-labored breathing.

Peter smirked as he continued the standard warm-up exercises. It was just the morning after their return, but Master Algaron had summoned them to early, individual lessons. Privately, Peter thought Edmund had needed to work off some of his frustrations. In the pseudo-seclusion of the salle, the high king surveyed the younger boy.

Edmund still had dark circles beneath his eyes, and his wrists were once again sticking out from the practice tunic, but when dark eyes met light, they were calm. Smiling slightly, "I don't know what you're talking about, Ed. I always look this good."

Ed grinned back. "Yes, but your good looks pale in comparison to mine. Aslan knew you would need extra assistance with the ladies, thus bestowing the High King title on you."

"And you will dazzle them with your knowledge of tea?"

Edmund mocked saluted. "Of course, I have both charm and intellect."

Peter cuffed Edmund on the head, ignoring the protest and dodging the return swipe. A pointed throat clearing prevented the escalation of the scuffle.

The kings stopped and stood next to each other, attempting to look chastened.

"Edmund, did you find some additional energy that perhaps could be used to further your tutorial?" Algaron inquired dryly. The younger boy shook his head.

"Peter, you are sufficiently prepared, I presume." The Armsmaster did not so much as ask, as tell. The High King nodded, sending a furtive glance to his brother.

Algaron indicated the training ring with his sword. Edmund made a face at his brother, who stifled the urge to giggle like a child as he entered the enclosure.

"On guard."

Feeling a sense of serenity he had not known in weeks, Peter brought his blade up. Breathing in, he knew he was at peace with his brother and sisters. Releasing the breath, his vision expanded to take in everything around him, as though he were an outside observer to his own body.

Without conscious thought, his blade parried Algaron's attack and riposted to an open line, causing the Master to hastily step out of the way. With a certainness he had only attained in battle, Peter tracked the arc of his opponent's blade and blocked again, shifting his weight precisely. He dodged a blow to his stomach before moving offensively, feinting twice before driving the blade to the junction of Algaron's head and shoulder.

Abruptly, reality reasserted itself. Peter could feel the way his harsh breathing tore at still-healing stitches and the sweat making his palms slick on the leather grip. From the side, Edmund's whistle of approval and subsequent cheers filled the air.

Only hours of drill prevented him from removing his blade as he met Algaron's eyes.

"Recover."

Peter dropped back to a guard position. The armsmaster smiled.

"You'll do alright for Narnia."

And with that, Algaron saluted him.

_-End-_

—oo0O0oo—

Author's note: Thank you for sticking with me through this story! I hope you have enjoyed it, and thank you for reading. ~Narelena


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